Alucard and Integra of Neverland
by Shadows' Nightmare
Summary: One night Integra discovers a mysterious shadow in her nursery belonging to a beautiful boy named Alucard, who whisks her away to Neverland. There she encounters lost boys, natives, pirates, and the adventure of her life. (Complete)
1. Alucard Breaks Through

Author's Notes: A late Christmas gift to Master of the Boot, as a way to say thank you for writing so many fics that make me laugh, by reposting a fic that brings you so much happiness. ^^

Disclaimer: Hellsing belongs to Kohta Hirano and Peter Pan belongs to Great Ormond Street Hospital, given to them by the author J.M. Barrie.

* * *

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Integra knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for the woman put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Integra knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.

Indeed, two was the beginning of the end for Integra, for after that her mother disappeared from her life forever, and her father, who until then had nothing to do with her, suddenly started bringing Integra into his study; where he taught her everything, from manners to mathematics, and over-all trained her on how to be the best possible grown up she could be.

This did not sit too well with the nurses, who could not abide by Integra's "unusual, unnatural, and in all other ways nonconformist" upbringing, and they let Sir Hellsing know of their disapproval continually.

"You are ruining her chances!" they would cry, "Who will want Integra now that she knows science but cannot darn a sock?"

"My dear woman," Sir Hellsing would say, to whomever it may concern. "Integra can do far greater good as the head of this family than as a simpering wife to someone else's family, just as Queen Elizabeth did for our country in the sixteenth century and Queen Victoria in this one. If some gentleman can accompany Integra in this task then let him do so, but otherwise let her do without him. Integra is nobody's broodmare."

Needless to say, the female staff began to quit one by one, until Hellsing Manor consisted only of men servants. Soon no nurse or governess could be prevailed to set foot within the grounds, no matter how much money was offered.

This was all quite well with Integra, who never got along with any of the nurses, and even grew to despise their light talk. Sir Hellsing loved to have everything just so, and the nurse's ceaseless injuries and badgering put everything quite out of order; but his brother Richard had a passion for being exactly like his neighbours; so, of course, they had to have a nurse.

As they were strange, owing to Integra's upbringing, this nurse was an immense albino dog, called Captain, who had belonged to no one in particular until the Hellsings engaged him. Where and how he became acquainted with the Hellsings was a mystery to all but Sir Hellsing himself, and he refused to disclose this secret to anyone, no matter how much his brother and daughter begged. But Integra had a feeling the Captain had been around all along, for he always looked at Integra as if he could remember her birth as if it were exactly the day before. And when Integra squinted, she could almost remember a time when she spent most of her spare time peeping up at him from her perambulators, and he was much hated by careless nursemaids, whom he followed to the nursery and was complained of to their master.

He had always thought Integra important, and proved to be quite a treasure of a nurse. How thorough he was at bath-time, and up at any moment of the night if his charge made the slightest cry. Of course his kennel was in the nursery. He had a genius for knowing when a cough is a thing to have no patience with and when it needs stocking around your throat. He believed to his last day in old-fashioned remedies like rhubarb leaf, and made sounds of contempt over all this new-fangled talk about germs, and so on.

It was a lesson in propriety to see him escorting Integra to her father's study, walking sedately by her side when she was well behaved, and butting her back into line if she ever slowed or strayed. Like any gentleman he always carried Integra's things for her, slipping it gently into her hand once they reached their destination. On outings he never once forgot Integra's sweater, and he usually carried an umbrella in his mouth in case of rain.

There is a section of the Hellsing Manor where the servants live. They sat on forms, while the Captain lay on the floor, but that was the only difference. They affected to ignore him as of an inferior social status to themselves, and he despised their loud talk. He resented visits to the nursery from Sir Hellsing's business associates, but if they did come he first whipped off Integra's face and put her into the dress with blue braiding, smoothed it out and made a dash at her hair.

No nursery could possibly have been conducted more correctly, and Richard knew it, yet he sometimes wondered uneasily whether the neighbours talked.

He had his position in the city to consider.

The Captain also troubled him in another way. He had sometimes a feeling that he did not admire him. "I know he admires you tremendously, Uncle," Integra would assure him, and then she would sign to the Captain to be specially nice to Richard.

Once Integra's back was turned the white wolf would glare so intensely that his red eyes burned like Hell itself.

"Contemptible beast," Richard would sneer, "We would not have dogs for nurses if I was head of the family."

To this the Captain would growl so ferociously that Richard would start, then trot back to Integra's side with a warning glare, as if to say, "If you were head of the family there would be no need of nurses, and I will not allow you to try anything with my ward."

Sir Hellsing and Integra were ignorant of these spats, and otherwise they were quite civil to each other.

Such was the life in the Hellsing family before the coming of Alucard.

He came with warning of course, as all natural disasters do, though surprisingly not to the persons involved.

Sir Irons first heard of Alucard when he was tidying up his friend's study. It is the nightly custom of every good friend to straighten his comrade's office and put things straight for next morning, repacking papers into their proper places the many articles that have wandered during the day.

Occasionally in his travels through his friend's papers Sir Irons found things he could not understand, and of these quite the most perplexing was the word Alucard. He knew of no Alucard, and yet he was here and there in Sir Hellsing's papers, while Integra's test scores began to be scrawled all over with him. The name stood out in bolder red letters than any of the other black words, and as Sir Irons gazed he felt that it had an oddly cocky appearance.

"Yes, he is rather cocky," Sir Hellsing admitted with regret. His friend had been questioning him.

"But who is he, my good man?"

"He is Alucard, you know, my friend."

At first Sir Irons did not know, but after thinking back into their childhood he just remembered an Alucard who was said to live with the dead. There were odd stories about him, as that when children died he went part of the way with them, so that they should not be frightened. He had believed in him at the time, but now that he was old and full of sense he quite doubted whether there was any such person.

"Besides," he said to Sir Hellsing, "he would be grown up by this time."

"Oh no, he isn't grown up," Sir Hellsing assured him confidently, "and he is just Integra's size." He meant that he was her size in both mind and body; he didn't know how he knew, he just knew it.

Sir Irons consulted Richard, but he rebuked the idea savagely. "Mark my words," he said, "it is some nonsense the Captain has been putting into their heads; just the sort of idea a dog would have!"

Old people have the strangest adventures without being troubled by them. For instance, they may remember to mention, a week after the event happened, that when they were in the wood they had met their dead father and had a game with him. It was in this casual way that Sir Irons one morning made a disquieting revelation. The Hellsing family seal, which was a red pentagram, had been painted in blood all over the nursery floor, which certainly was not there when Integra went to bed, and Sir Irons was puzzling over it when Sir Hellsing said with a tolerant smile:

"I do believe it is that Alucard again!"

"Whatever do you mean, Arthur?"

He explained in quite a matter-of-fact way that he thought Alucard sometimes came to the nursery in the night and sat on the foot of Integra's bed and played on his pipes to her. Unfortunately she never woke, so he didn't know how he knew, he just knew.

"What nonsense you talk, my friend. No one can get into the manor without knocking."

"I think he comes in by the window," he said.

"My good man, it is three floors up."

"How else could he get into the manor, my friend?"

It was quite true; the blood had been found dripping very near the window.

Sir Irons did not know what to think, for it all seemed so natural to Sir Hellsing that he could not dismiss it by saying he was mistaken.

"Does the child know?" he finally asked.

"Oh no," Sir Hellsing said cheerfully. "Integra quite over-looked the markings in her haste to get to lessons this morning, and the symbol shall be removed before she comes back to go to bed tonight. The Captain is in the yard with her right now, so she will not find out."

"My friend," Sir Irons cried, "why did you not tell me of this before?"

"I forgot," said Sir Hellsing lightly. He was in a hurry to get to his afternoon tea.

To Sir Irons further protests he would only say , "Leave it alone, and it will all blow over."

But it would not blow over, and soon the troublesome boy gave even Sir Hellsing quite a shock.

On the night we speak of Integra was once more in bed. It happened to be the Captain's evening off, and Sir Hellsing had read to her till she slid away into the land of sleep.

She was looking so safe and cosy that he allowed himself a small smile of affection and sat down tranquilly by the fire to rest his tired bones.

Sir Hellsing noticed that he became far too fatigued too often recently, and he sensed his time on Earth was reaching its close. This disturbed Sir Hellsing, for Integra was still a child, and had much to learn about becoming head of the family. Who would watch out for her? Surely the Captain could look after her well-being, but she would need to know how to run the household. Who could give her such guidence? Suddenly Sir Hellsing thought of Richard, and he was flooded with relief. Of course Richard would look after Integra. With that in mind, Sir Hellsing relaxed so much that he was able to sleep.

While he slept he had a dream. He dreamt that the Afterlife had come too near and that a strange boy had broken through from it. He did not alarm him, for he thought he had seen him before in the faces of many adults who have no children. Perhaps he is to be found in the faces children who have no parents also. But in his dream he had rent the film that obscures the Afterlife, and he saw Integra peeping through the gap.

The dream by itself would have been a trifle, but while he was dreaming the window of the nursery blew open, and a boy did drop on the floor. He was accompanied by a strange light, no bigger than your fist, which darted about the room like a living thing and I think it must have been this light that wakened Sir Hellsing.

He started up with a cry, and saw the boy, and somehow he knew at once that it was Alucard. He was a lovely boy, with hair black as the darkest night, skin pale as the first snow of the season, and eyes red as the freshest of spilled blood. But somehow the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth. When he saw Sir Hellsing was a grown-up, he gnashed the little pearls at him.


	2. The Shadow

Author's Notes: I'm just going to blow through this fic till it comes to a close. There's a sequel I have in mind.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, Kohta Hirano does. I do not own Great Ormond Street Hospital, Peter Pan does. . . Wait a minute.

* * *

Sir Hellsing started, and, as if in answer to a bell, the door opened, and the Captain entered, returned from his evening out. He growled and sprang at the boy, who leapt lightly through the window. Again Sir Hellsing started, this time in distress for the boy, for he thought he was killed, and he ran the down into the garden to look for his little body, but it was not there.

"You there!" he called to the new nursemaid, Liza, "Have you heard anything?"

"Besides you yelling? No, Sir," she said, rather peevishly. "Is everything all right?"

"I fear there may be an intruder; search the grounds!" but there was no one save a rat eating the rose buds.

Exasperated, he looked up, and in the black night he could see nothing but what he thought was a shooting star.

He returned to the nursery, and found the Captain with something in his mouth, which proved to be the boy's shadow. As he leapt at the window the Captain had closed it quickly, too late to catch him, but his shadow had not had time to get out; slam went the window and snapped it off.

You may be sure Sir Hellsing examined the shadow carefully, but it was quite the ordinary kind.

The Captain had no doubt of what was the best thing to do with this shadow. He hung it out at the window, meaning "He is sure to come back for it; let us put it where he can get it easily without disturbing Integra."

But Sir Hellsing had a feeling the very reason the boy came was to disturb Integra; why else would he go to such lengths to make his visits known to her? If he were to come back at all, he would make sure never to leave until Integra was made perfectly aware of his existence, shadow or no. This Sir Hellsing could not allow, for Integra was meant for far greater things than to fraternize with a boy who could not keep track of his own shadow.

He thought of showing it to Richard, but he knew exactly what he would say: "It all comes of having a dog for a nurse."

He decided to roll the shadow up and put it away carefully in a drawer, until a fitting opportunity came for giving it back to the boy. Ah me! Before that opportunity came, Sir Hellsing's health took a turn for the worse. Alas! The shadow only proved to be a foreshadowing of his own dark fate on that never-to-be-forgotten Friday. Of course it was a Friday.

"I ought to have been specially careful on a Friday," she would say afterwards.

"Integra, listen well," her father said on his death bed. "When I am gone, _you_ will be the head of the family. The Hellsing manor, the royal family, and the Protestant Church will be _yours_ to protect and serve."

"Yes Father," Integra said, with tears in her eyes.

"Integra," he said weakly, "There were still so many things I wanted to teach you. I wanted to keep watching over, and taking _pride_, in the Hellsing blood that flows through you..."

Integra only nodded miserably.

Sir Hellsing saw quickly that this would not do, for Integra was too young and frightened to handle it on her own, and he reached a quivering hand toward his brother, and implored with his last breath: "Richard, please, I beg of you... watch over Integra for me..."

"Of course, Brother," Richard replied, calm as could be.

And with that, Sir Hellsing died.

Less than a week after, Richard had the whole manor under siege, and was ordering Integra's demise from the very desk he had usurped from his niece.

"Have you found her yet?" he yelled at his henchmen.

"No Sir, we still haven't found her," they replied.

"Well, flush her out then! Get to it!" and they ran to do just that.

"Twenty years!" Richard barked, "_Twenty years_ I have waited for his demise! Like h_ell _I will ever let a little brat like that take the family headship from me!" He cocked his gun, "Hellsing is mine!"

Little did Richard know, Integra was listening to every word he said from above his head from above his open window. Integra had heard the commotion and climbed out of her balcony window and onto the open roof, where no one would think to look. 'It hasn't _even _been a _week_ since Father died!' she thought angrily, 'You're nothing more than a bloody rotten traitorous scumbag, uncle!'

They could hear the Captain howling, and the guard whimpered, "It is because he is chaining her up in the yard," but Integra was wiser.

"That is not the Captain's unhappy howl," she thought, little guessing what was about to happen; "that is his howl when he smells danger."

Danger!

"Oh Captain! Why did you not notice it sooner?"

"You still haven't found her?" Richard shouted when his men got back, "How hard can it be to find one bloody half-pint?"

"We've checked every nook and crany of this mansion, sir," a guard defended desperately, "She's just not here!"

Integra felt a surge of pride for thinking to hide herself on the roof.

"Enough excuses, just find her!" Richard snapped. "If we don't act quickly, the other staff will start catching wind."

Integra wondered where Liza was when she needed her.

"The only place we haven't looked," one henchman said uneasily, "Is the basement. It hasn't been used by the family for nigh twenty years."

After a moment of silence, no doubt looking over a map, Richard chuckled darkly. "Then it's there she must be hiding." He cocked his gun again, and went to follow his goons out of the room. "Find her! And tell all the others to search the grounds. The sooner we catch her, the better off we'll be."

For the first time, Integra was worried about her hiding place. If anyone happened to look toward, she'd be done for, and it wasn't as if she would fly to safety. Gingerly, she climbed back down her open balcony, and hut the windows softly behind her. They had searched her nursery already, so they shouldn't be looking again anytime soon, however. . . "Even in here, it's only a matter of time. . ." she thought sadly.

Integra collapsed onto her nursery bed with a weary sigh.

She then noticed the tall silhouette falling right beside her, and she sat up suddenly.

"What in the blazes?" she thought; her glasses askew.

There was a large dark figure sitting on the floor beside her bed, and seemed to be leaning against the nursery wall. It had incredibly long hair, a rather butch torso, and long legs that lay spread out and seemed to reach out across the floor. After a moment of staring, Integra noticed how flat it was, but there was no one standing at the far window to lay it down.

"Is that," she whispered under her breath. "A shadow?"

Indeed, it was a shadow, and it was sitting alone in her nursery as though it had every right to be there.

"I have often seen a man without a shadow," Integra whispered, quoting her favorite book, "But I have rarely seen a shadow without a man."

If Integra expected the shadow to do anything after she noticed it, it did not, and she eventually resigned herself to the oddity of it all.

"Right," Integra sighed, "I've got nowhere else to go. Would you mind if I shared a seat with you, Sir?"

The shadow did not respond, although Integra did not know if it was supposed to, and they sat beside each other like jail mates in a cell.

After a long silence, Integra ventured to whisper, "Just for a moment. . . I had hoped you'd belong to someone handy. . . like a knight who would protect me from the bad guys, or a prince who would rescue me and take me away to his kingdom. . ." If the shadow was insulted, it did not let on, or even answer. "Coming all the way here without an owner. . . What were you thinking, shadow?"

After a time, Integra looked over at her nightstand, where the nightlights stood, quite put out.

Integra remembered a time when she had asked, "Can anything harm us, father, after the night-lights are lit?"

"Nothing, precious," he had said; "they are the eyes a father leaves behind him to guard his children."

But where was Integra's night-light now?

Integra quivered and approached the window. It was securely fastened. She looked out, and the night was peppered with stars. They were crowding round the house, as if curious to see what was to take place there, but she did not notice this, nor that one or two of the smaller ones winked at her. Yet a nameless fear clutched at her heart and made her cry, "Oh, how I wish that none of this had ever happened!"

She went to light a night-light herself, ignoring the shadow's ripple of displeasure, but at the sound of footsteps she ran to the bed and flung herself under the covers, crying silently and trying to pretend, as all children do, that none of these terrible things had ever happened.

Oh! But how long could she go on pretending something as significant as that?

Integra lay under her bed and tried to forget, tried to remember where it had all gone wrong. It had all begun so uneventfully, so precisely like a hundred other evenings, with the Captain putting on the water for Integra's bath and carrying her to it on his back.

"Oh Captain," Integra sighed, slipping gently off, "you know I'm too old for this,"

The Captain must have given her quite a look, for Integra reacted in a bad sort.

"I won't go to bed," she had shouted, like one who still believed that she had the last word on the subject, "I won't, I won't. Captain, it isn't six o'clock yet. Oh dear, oh dear, I shan't love you any more, Captain. I tell you I won't be bothered, I won't, I won't!"

The Captain then must have looked at her quite sternly, for she ceased immediately.

"I am so sorry, Captain," she said, with tears in her eyes. "I have just been so out of sorts since father died. . . I don't know what's come over me. . ."

The Captain nodded, satisfied, for he knew that children rarely threw tantrums about the things they are truly upset about. In an attempt to cheer her up, the Captain played a rare game of keep-away with her favorite handkerchief, and in another moment was dancing round the room with Integra on his back.

"How wildly we romped!" says Integra now, recalling it. "Our last romp!" she groans, with tears in her eyes.

The romp had ended with the appearance of Richard, and most unluckily, or perhaps on purpose, the Captain collided against him, covering his trousers with hairs. They were not only new trousers, but they were the first he had ever had with braid on them, and he had had to bite his lip to prevent from screaming. Of course Integra brushed him, but he began to talk again about its being a mistake to have a dog for a nurse.

"Uncle! The Captain is a treasure." Integra chastised, with her arms around the Captain's neck.

"No doubt, but I have an uneasy feeling at times that he looks upon you as a puppy."

"Oh no, dear one, I feel sure he knows I have a soul."

"I wonder," Richard said sarcastically, "I wonder."

"We were still discussing it, I remember," says Integra, "when the Captain came in with my medicine. You will never carry the bottle in your mouth again, Captain, and it is all my fault."

Strong girl though she was, there is no doubt that she had behaved rather foolishly over the medicine. As she noticed the bottle, she could not help but sigh dejectedly, "Oh Captain, must I always take that nasty tonic?"

If Richard had a weakness, it was for thinking that all his life he had taken medicine boldly, and so now, when Integra gloomily accepted the spoon from the Captain's mouth, he had said reprovingly, "Be a man, Integra."

Integra looked at her uncle with surprise. "I thought I was a girl."

"But you are the head of the family?" Richard sneered. "Should you not be as strong as a man?"

"Perhaps I should be," Integra agreed. "But girls can be strong, too, in their own way."

The Captain left the room to get a chocolate for her, and Richard thought this showed want of firmness.

"Captain, don't pamper her," he called after him, though the Captain had never pampered Integra in her, and did not intend to now. The chocolate was a reward for when he knew she would take it, not an enticement to get her to receive it, but Richard did not know the difference. "Integra, when I was your age I took medicine without a murmur. I said, 'Thank you, kind guardians, for giving me bottles to make we well.'"

He really thought this was true, and Integra, who was of a suspicious nature, said, rather sarcastically, "That medicine you sometimes take, uncle, is much nastier, isn't it?"

"Ever so much nastier," Richard said bravely, "and I would take it now as an example to you, Integra, if I hadn't lost the bottle."

Integra did not believe a word of this, but she took her medicine without any more of a fuss.

The Captain nodded, satisfied, and went to take the empty bottle and spoon away.

"Is there a particular reason why you have come here, uncle?" Integra asked, as the Captain left the room. "Father's funeral is not until next week, and I shall have all of the arrangements settled in the morning."

"It is not about that," Richard said peevishly. "It is that I find it rather unseemly for the head of the family to still live in her nursery."

"I know, uncle, and I shall move out once all of the arrangements are finished." Integra was arranging the soaps for her bath at this time.

"But to have a girl who lives in her nursery as head of the family is an outrage!" Richard barked. "And with a dog for a nurse as well! Do you know what the neighbors are saying?"

"Let them!" she answered recklessly. "Bring in the whole world. But I refuse to allow you to lord in my nursery for an hour longer. I will leave when I am good and ready, and the Captain shall accompany me wherever I may go, whether as a nurse or a bodyguard."

And then Integra made the greatest mistake of her young life, in that she turned away from her uncle and continued to arrange her soaps.

"If only I had forced him to leave," Integra laments now, "If only I had not left him alone with the Captain, things would be different now!"

After Integra had set out the Captain's supper for the evening (which was a large steak that was seasoned with spices imported from the colonies) Richard took out a large knife and cut it in two from its thick sides, placed a draught of wolfsbane and a stick of mistletoe between the slices like a sandwich, and used more of Integra's exotic spices to cover the scent. The steak did not look stranger from the tampering, quite the contrary; it only looked plumper and juicier.

When the Captain returned from his chores, he eyed Richard suspiciously.

"There you are, you lazy brute," Richard said, and the Captain growled in response. "Integra has left a little food in your bowl, though I told her not to spoil you with spices, of course she does not listen."

The Captain wagged his tail, for he was used to Integra's kindness, and gulped the whole steak down in two bites.

This has always been the way the Captain eats his food, but that night, it was a weakness, for he did not taste the wolfsbane until it was too late.

"Send Arthur my regards," Richard said, then snapped his fingers, and a dozen men in black stormed the nursery to take him away.

It was not until the commotion was over that Integra stepped out of the bath, noticing for the first time that something was truly amiss.

"Far too late!" Integra cries now, and sobs openly.

Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the star language), but the little ones still wonder. They are not really friendly to Alucard, who had a mischievous way of stealing up behind them and trying to blow them out; but they are so fond of fun that they were on his side to-night, and anxious to get the grown-ups out of the way. So as soon as Richard and his men disappeared into the basement, the smallest of all the stars in the Milky Way screamed out:

"Now, Alucard!"


	3. Come Away, Come Away!

Author's Notes: This is, without a doubt, my favorite chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. ^^

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing, Peter Pan, or a fairy of my own. *sigh*

* * *

For a moment after Richard and his goons left the house the night-light by the bed of Integra continued to burn clearly. It was an awfully nice little night-light, and one cannot help wishing that it could have kept awake to see Alucard; but Integra's light blinked and gave such a yawn that before it could close its mouth it went out.

There was another little blue light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the night-lights, and in the time we have taken to say this, it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Alucard's shadow, rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocket inside out. It was not really a light; it made this light by flashing about so quickly, but when it came to rest for a second you saw it was a fairy, no longer than your hand, but still growing. It was a girl called Rip Van Winkle exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf suit, cut long and slim, through which her own skeletal figure could be seen to the best advantage.

A moment after the fairy's entrance the window was blown open by the breathing of the little stars, and Alucard dropped in. He had carried Rip Van Winkle part of the way, and his hand was still messy with the fairy dust.

"Rip Van Winkle," he called softly, after making sure that the girl was asleep, "Rip, where are you?" She was in a jug for the moment, and liking it extremely; she had never been in a jug before.

"Rip!" he called sternly, "Stop playing, and tell me, do you know where they put my shadow?"

The loveliest tinkle as of little bells answered him. It is the fairy language. You ordinary children can never hear it, but if you were to hear it you would know that you had heard it once before.

Rip said that the shadow was in the big box. She meant the chest of drawers, and Alucard jumped at the drawers, scattering their contents to the floor with both hands, as kings toss ha'pence to the crowd. In a moment he had recovered his shadow, and in his delight he forgot that he had shut Rip Van Winkle up in the drawer.

The shadow put up a bit of a fight, however, and Alucard had quite the time chasing it around the room before he recaptured it again.

Alucard had thought that he and his shadow, when brought near each other, would join like drops of water, and when they did not he was appalled. He tried to stick it on with soap from the bathroom, but that also failed, and it escaped again. A shudder passed through Alucard, and he sat on the floor and cried.

His sobs woke Integra, and she sat up in bed. She was not alarmed to see a stranger crying on the nursery floor; on the contrary, after all the strange things that had happened that night, she was beginning to think the whole thing a dream. She was not surprised to see a boy sitting there, she was only pleasantly interested.

"Boy," she said courteously, "why are you crying?"

Alucard was very embarrassed, for this was not how he had wanted her to see him. He could be exceeding polite also, having learned the grand manner at fairy ceremonies, and he rose and bowed to her beautifully. She was much pleased, and bowed beautifully to him from the bed.

He stared at her long and long.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing," she replied with some satisfaction. "What is your name?"

"Alucard."

It did seem a comparatively short name.

"Is that all?"

"Yes," he said rather sharply. He felt for the first time that it was a shortish name.

"I'm so sorry," said Integra Fairbrook Wingates.

"It doesn't matter," Alucard gulped.

She asked where he lived.

"Second to the right," said Alucard, "and then straight on till morning."

"What a funny address!'

Alucard had a sinking. For the first time he felt that perhaps it was a funny address.

"No, it isn't," he said.

"I mean," Integra said nicely, remembering that she was hostess, "is that what they put on the letters?"

He wished she had not mentioned letters.

"Don't get any letters," he said contemptuously.

"But your father gets letters?"

"Don't have a father," he said. Not only had he no father, but he had not the slightest desire to have one. He thought them very over-rated persons. Integra, however, felt at once that she was in the presence of a fellow tragedy.

"O Alucard, no wonder you were crying," she said, and got out of bed and ran to him. "But I know exactly how you feel, for I lost my own father not a week ago."

"I wasn't crying about fathers," he said rather indignantly. "I was crying because I can't get my shadow to stick on. Besides, I wasn't crying."

"That is your shadow?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"It seems . . ." Integra searched for a tactful word, "bigger, somehow."

"Of course," Alucard said proudly, "my shadow is as big as I feel!"

"I see. It has come off?"

"Yes."

Then Integra saw the shadow on the ceiling, looking so draggled, and she was frightfully sorry for Alucard. "How awful!" she said, but she could not help smiling when she saw that he had been trying to stick it on with soap. How exactly like a boy!

Fortunately she knew at once what to do. "It must be sewn on," she said, just a little patronisingly.

"What's sewn?" he asked.

"You're dreadfully ignorant."

"No, I'm not."

But she was exulting in his ignorance. "I shall sew it on for you, my little man," she said, though he was tall as herself, and she really knew little more about sewing than he did, and she got out her old abandoned housewife from the other room.

"You'll be wasting your time," Alucard said, "My shadow won't listen to you!"

"Now, I must warn you I am a quite out of practice," Integra noticed the shadow lounging on the picture frame. "Oh sit down, it won't take long."

The shadow immediately sat cross-legged on the ground, and Alucard bit his tongue.

For the first time in her life, Integra was grateful to her old nursemaids for sitting her down when she was little and forcing her to learn a thing about darning. She had thought it useless at the time, but now she was glad to have such a skill, at least for this occasion.

"I daresay it will hurt a little," she warned him as she prepared to sew the shadow on to his foot.

"Oh, I shan't cry," said Alucard, who was already of the opinion that he had never cried in his life. And he clenched his teeth and did not cry, and soon his shadow was down to its proper size and behaving properly, though still a little creased.

"Perhaps I should have ironed it," Integra said thoughtfully, though she knew even less about ironing than she did about sewing. But Alucard, boylike, was indifferent to appearances, and he was now jumping about in the wildest glee. Alas, he had already forgotten that he owed his bliss to Integra. He thought he had attached the shadow himself. "How clever I am!" he crowed rapturously, "oh, the cleverness of me!"

It is humiliating to have to confess that this conceit of Alucard was one of his most fascinating qualities. To put it with brutal frankness, there never was a cockier boy.

But for the moment Integra was shocked. "You conceit," she exclaimed, with frightful sarcasm; "of course _I_ did nothing!"

"You did a little," Alucard said carelessly, and continued to dance.

"A little!" she replied with hauteur; "if I am no use I can at least withdraw," and she sprang in the most dignified way into bed and covered her face with the blankets.

'What an arrogant little boy,' Integra thought angrily, 'I cannot wait for him to go away!'

To induce her to look up he pretended to be going away, and when this failed he sat on the end of the bed and tapped her gently with his foot. "Integra," he said, "don't withdraw. I can't help crowing, Integra, when I'm pleased with myself." Still she would not look up, though she was listening passively. "Integra," he continued, in a voice that no woman has ever yet been able to resist, "Integra, one girl is more use than twenty boys."

Now Integra was every inch a woman, though there were not very many inches, and she peeped out of the bed-clothes.

"Do you really think so, Alucard?"

"Yes, I do."

"I think it's perfectly sweet of you," she declared, "and I'll get up again," and she sat with him on the side of the bed. She also said she would give him a kiss if he liked, and he held out his hand expectantly.

"Surely you know what a kiss it?" she asked, aghast.

"I shall know when you give it to me," he replied slyly, and not to hurt his feeling she gave him a thimble.

"Now," said he, "shall I give you a kiss?" and she replied with a slight primness, "If you please." She made herself rather cheap by inclining her face toward him, but he merely dropped an acorn button into her hand, so she slowly returned her face to where it had been before, and said nicely that she would wear his kiss on the chain around her neck. It was lucky that she did put it on that chain, for it was afterwards to save her life.

When people in our set are introduced, it is customary for them to ask each other's age, and so Integra, who always liked to do the correct thing, asked Alucard how old he was. It was not really a happy question to him; it was like an examination paper that asks grammar, when what you want to be asked is Kings of England.

"I don't know," he replied uneasily, "but I am quite young." He said at a venture, "Integra, I ran away the day I was born."

Integra was quite surprised, but interested; and she indicated in the charming drawing-room manner, by a touch on her night-gown, that he could sit nearer her.

"It was because I heard father and mother," he explained in a low voice, "talking about what I was to be when I became a man." He was extraordinarily agitated now, though it was little to do with what they wanted him to be as a man than what they wanted him to be as a boy; but he dared not tell Integra for fear of frightening her away. "I don't want ever to be a man," he said with passion. "I want always to be a little boy and to have fun. So I ran away to the Afterlife and lived a long time among the dead."

To Integra's look of horror, he hastily added, "But then I broke through from the Afterlife and ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a long long time among the fairies."

She then gave him a look of the most intense admiration, and he thought it was because he had run away, but it was really because he knew fairies. Integra had lived such a home life that to know fairies struck her as quite delightful. She poured out questions about them, to his surprise, for they were rather a nuisance to him, getting in his way and so on, and indeed he sometimes had to give them a hiding. Still, he liked them on the whole, and he told her about the beginning of fairies.

"You see, Integra, when the first baby laughed for the first time, its laugh broke into a thousand pieces, and they all went skipping about, and that was the beginning of fairies."

Tedious talk this, but being a stay-at-home she liked it.

"And so," he went on good-naturedly, "there ought to be one fairy for every boy and girl."

"Ought to be? Isn't there?"

"No. You see children know such a lot now, they soon don't believe in fairies, and every time a child says, 'I don't believe in fairies,' there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead."

Integra looked away quite shamefully, "I'm sorry Alucard, but I used to be one of those children."

Really, he thought they had now talked enough about fairies, and it struck him that Rip Van Winkle was keeping very quiet. "I can't think where she has gone to," he said, rising, and he called Rip by name. Integra's heart went flutter with a sudden thrill.

"Alucard," she said, clutching him, "you don't mean to tell me that there is a fairy in this room?"

"She was here just now," he said a little impatiently. "You don't hear her, do you?" and they both listened.

"The only sound I hear," said Integra, "is like a tinkle of bells."

"Well, that's Rip, that's the fairy language. I think I hear her too."

The sound came from the chest of drawers, and Alucard made a merry face. No one could ever look quite so merry as Alucard, and the loveliest of gurgles was his laugh. He had his first laugh still.

"Integra," he whispered gleefully, "I do believe I shut her up in the drawer!"

He let poor Rip out of the drawer, and she flew about the nursery screaming with fury. "You shouldn't say such things," Alucard retorted. "Of course I'm very sorry, but how could I know you were in the drawer?"

Integra was not listening to him. "O Alucard," she cried, "if she would only stand still and let me see her!"

"They hardly ever stand still," he said, but for one moment Integra saw the slim figure with flowing hair come to rest on the cuckoo clock. "O the lovely!" she cried, though Rip's face was still distorted with passion.

"Rip," said Alucard amiably, "this lady ways she wishes you were her fairy."

Rip Van Winkle answered insolently.

"What does she say, Alucard?"

He had to translate. "She is not very polite. She says you are a great ugly girl, and that she is my fairy.

He tried to argue with Rip. "You know you can't be my fairy, Rip, because I am a gentleman and you are a lady."

To this Rip replied in these words, "You silly ass," and disappeared into the bathroom. "She is quite a common fairy," Alucard explained apologetically, "she is called Rip Van Winkle because she rips the seams and mends the wrinkles of old fabrics."

They were together in the armchair by this time, and Integra plied him with more questions.

"If you don't live in Kensington Gardens now-"

"Sometimes I do still."

"But where do you live mostly now?"

"With the lost boys."

"Who are they?"

"They are the children who fall out of their perambulators when the nurse is looking the other way. If they are not claimed in seven days they are sent far away to the Neverland to defray expenses. I'm captain."

"What fun it must be!"

"Yes," said cunning Alucard, "but we are rather lonely. You see we have no female companionship."

"Are none of the others girls?"

"Oh, no; girls, you know, are much too clever to fall out of their prams."

This flattered Integra immensely. "I think," she said, "it is perfectly lovely the way you talk about girls."

"Why would I talk any differently?"

Integra laughed at this, and threw her arms around Alucard. "Oh! And I know you never meant to be kind," she said, relenting, "so you may give me a kiss."

For the moment she had forgotten his ignorance about kisses. "I thought you would want it back," he said a little bitterly, and offered to return her the thimble.

"Oh dear," said the nice Integra, "I don't mean a kiss, I mean a thimble."

"What's that?"

"It's like this." She kissed him.

"Funny!" said Alucard slyly. "Now shall I give you a thimble?"

"If you wish to," said Integra, keeping her head erect this time.

Alucard thimbled her, and almost immediately she screeched. Rip Van Winkle had pelted the side of her head like a sparkling blue bullet. "Stop!" Alucard shouted, "Stop it Rip!"

But Rip would not stop, and soon Alucard had to chase her about the room as Rip zig-zagged to and fro like a sparkling beam of light, using offensive language as she went. Of course Alucard caught her, and demanded to know why she did it.

"She says she will do that to you, Integra, every time I give you a thimble."

"But why?"

"Why, Rip?"

Again Rip replied, "You silly ass." Alucard could not understand why, but Integra understood, and she was just slightly disappointed when he admitted that he came to the nursery window not to see her but to listen to stories.

"My father's stories?" Integra said, remembering the Captain's nights off, "But why would they interest you?"

"Because I don't know any stories. None of the lost boys knows any stories."

"How perfectly awful," Integra said, though she really had not sympathy for them.

"Do you know," Alucard asked "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories. O Integra, your father was telling you such a lovely story."

"Which story was it?"

"About the prince who couldn't find the lady who wore the glass slipper."

"Alucard," said Integra, "that was Cinderella, and he found her, and they lived happily ever after."

Integra remembered all at once that this was the last story her father had ever told her, and she knew that where he was going she would never find him again. And since her uncle was trying to kill her, Integra knew she would never find a happily ever after, and a terrible melancholy fell over her heart.

Alucard, for his part, was so glad that he rose from the floor, where they had been sitting, and hurried to the window.

"Where are you going?" she cried with misgiving.

"To tell the other boys."

"Of course," Integra said, accepting that even in dream a lovely boy like this would not stay forever. If only he had been real, then he might take her with him, but since this was a dream, she would just have to wake up. "Still, I'm so glad you came by, Alucard, or else I might never have seen you."

"Why?"

"Because I shall be dead by tomorrow."

"Dead?" Alucard cried, turning in alarm.

"It's true," Integra nodded sadly and collected her useless housewifery and walked away forlornly. "My uncle is trying to kill me, so tonight's my last night in the nursery; on this earth."

"But that mean . . . no more stories!" she expected him to say, but instead Alucard cried passionately, "No! I won't have it! Come on!" He came back and gripped her so hard that she began to wonder if this was a dream before she realized he was drawing her toward the window.

"Let me go!" she ordered him.

"Integra, do come with me and tell the other boys."

Of course she was very pleased to be asked, but she said, "Oh dear, I can't. I'm head of the family! Besides, I can't fly."

"I'll teach you."

"Oh! How lovely to fly."

"I'll teach you how to jump on the wind's back, and then away we go."

"Oo!" she exclaimed rapturously.

"Integra, Integra, when you are sleeping in your silly bed you might be flying about with me saying funny things to the stars."

"Oo!"

"And, Integra, there are mermaids."

"Mermaids! With tails?"

"Such long tails."

"Oh," Integra said, "how interesting!"

He had become frightfully cunning. "Integra," he said, "how we should all respect you."

She was wriggling her body in distress. It was quite as if she were trying to remain on the nursery floor.

But he had no pity for her.

"Integra," he said, the sly one, "you could become the master of the lost boys."

"Oo!"

"None of us has ever had a master before."

"Oo," and her arms went out to him.

"And you could order us around, and make war strategies for us, and be the first female master the lost boys has ever had."

How could she resist? "Of course it's awfully fascinating!" she cried; and then, thinking it over, "Alucard, can you really fly?"

"Yup!" Alucard said proudly, "Watch me now! Here I go!" and Alucard flew around the room, taking the mantelpiece on the way.

"You can fly!" said Integra.

"I can fly!" said Alucard.

"How sweet!" cried Integra.

"Yes, I'm sweet, oh, I am sweet!" said Alucard, forgetting his manners again.

It looked delightfully easy, and she tried it first from the floor and then from the beds, but they always went down instead of up.

"I say, how do you do it?" asked Integra, rubbing her knee. She was quite a practical girl.

"It's easy! All you have to do is to. . . is to. . ." Alucard thought about it long and hard. "Ha! That's funny."

"What's the matter?" Integra asked, "don't you know?"

"Of course!" Alucard said, "I've just never thought about it before," and then it came to him.

"You just think lovely wonderful thoughts," Alucard explained, "and they lift you up in the air!"

Integra was delighted. She had never been allowed to think happy thoughts.

He showed her again, and then helped her on the bed. "Now you try."

Integra did try, but soon found that she could not fly an inch.

Of course Alucard had been trifling with her, for no one can fly unless the fairy dust has been blown on her. Fortunately, as we have mentioned, one of his hands was messy with it, and he blew some over Integra, causing it to sprinkle around her like enchanted blue snow, with the most superb results.

"Now think of the happiest things," he said, "it's the same as having wings."

Integra held the edges of her skirt like make-shift wings and leapt into the air. "I'll just try this once more," but she was delighted to find that she was rising off the floor. Integra was beside herself with joy.

"I can fly!" she cried.

"You can fly!" he crowed.

"We can fly!" they sang together.

Up and down they went, and round and round. Heavenly was Integra's word.

"I say," cried Integra, "why shouldn't we all go out?"

Of course it was to this that Alucard had been luring her.

He took her hand, but had to desist, Rip was so indignant. "Of course, my master."

It was just at this moment that Richard and his henchmen hurried out of the basement and the Captain broke through from his chains. They ran into the middle of the garden to look up at the nursery window; and, yes, it was still shut, but the room was ablaze with light, and most shocking sight of all, they could see in shadow on the curtain a little figure in school attire circling round and round, not on the floor but in the air.

Not one figure, but two!

Each wanting to out-do the other, they raised to the nursery as fast as they could. They would have reached the nursery in time had it not been that the little stars were watching them. Once again the stars blew the window open, and that smallest star of all called out:

"Cave, Alucard!"

Then Alucard knew that there was not a moment to lose.

"Come on Integra," he cried imperiously from the window, "Here we go. . ." she half-flew, half-ran to him, he took her hand, and they soared out at once into the night. "Off to Neverland!"

Richard and his goons and the Captain rushed into the nursery too late. The birds were flown.


	4. The Island Come True

Author's Notes: Reviews make the world go round, and that includes Neverland! (Cries)

Disclaimer: I do not own Alucard, Hellsing, Peter Pan, St. Ormond Street Hospital, Neverland, or any of the like.

* * *

Integra soon learned that flying outside was much different than flying inside. She was not nearly so elegant as Alucard, she could not help kicking a little, and her head was bobbing.

Alucard, for his part, was having such a grand time that he led her around and around, over the moon and around chimney spires, though Integra had not yet mastered turning, and flew right through an open window, though this was all right since another one was open on the other side.

But Integra was never one to let her nerves get her for long, and so great were the delights of flying that she wasted time circling round church spires or any other tall objects on the way that took her fancy.

They flew over Kensington Park, the place where it all began, and Alucard flew to the water and rode two swans like rollerblades as he played on his pipes. He looked back and smiled at Integra, and she flew over the water to look at her reflection (she had never seen her reflection in a pond before) when Rip quite did away with her reflection by skimming over the water haughtily; however, a few high jumping fish tried to eat Rip, thinking her a bug, and she quickly flew safely up in the air with Alucard and Integra.

It was not until they stopped to rest on the face of Big Ben's Clock Tower did Integra journey to ask which way they were going.

"Second to the right, and straight on till morning."

That, Alucard had told Integra, was the way to the Neverland; but even birds, carrying maps and consulting them at windy corners, could not have sighted it with these instructions.

"Second to which right, Alucard?"

"Whichever right you wish, my master."

Alucard said this so intensely that Integra had to blush and look away, and in the distance she could see the smallest star in the sky winking at her suggestively.

"Great idea Integra!" Alucard cried excitedly, "second star to the right, and straight on till morning."

Integra clapped her hands with delight, Alucard took hers and, before Rip could object, they set off once more into the sky.

Oh! What a joy to fly! Integra remained excited even as they flew across the Thames, under Tower Bridge, over the clouds and away from the world Integra knew.

But the night proved to be longer than Integra thought, since their stop at the Clock Tower showed it to be quarter after seven when their journey began.

As the night wore on, Integra became really hungry at times, or was she merely pretending, because Alucard had such a jolly new way of feeding her? His way was to pursue bats who had food in their mouths suitable for humans and snatch it from them; then the bats would follow and snatch it back; and they would all go chasing each other gaily for miles, parting at last with mutual expressions of good-will. But Integra noticed with gentle concern that Alucard did not seem to know that this was rather an odd way of getting your bread and butter, nor even that there are other ways.

Certainly she did not pretend to be sleepy, she was sleepy; and that was a danger, for the moment she dozed off, she would change direction or fall entirely.

Of course Alucard would dive through the air and catch Integra just before she could strike the clouds, and it was lovely the way he did it; but he always waited till the last moment, and you felt it was his cleverness that interested him and not the saving of human life.

"If you ever let me get that close to the earth again," Integra said sternly after he caught her for the second time, "I'll slap you."

However, to make amends Alucard showed her how to lie out flat on a strong wind that was going their way, and this was such a pleasant change that she tried it and found that she could sleep thus with security. Indeed she would have slept longer, but Alucard soon cried in his captain voice, "We get off here." So with occasional tiffs, but on the whole rollicking, they drew near the Neverland; for after many hours they did reach it, and, what is more, they had been going pretty straight all the time, not perhaps so much owing to the guidance of Alucard or Rip as because the island was looking for them. It is only thus that any one may sight those magic shores.

"There it is," said Alucard excitedly.

"Where, where?"

"Where all the arrows are pointing."

Indeed a million silver arrows were pointing it out to the children; all directed by her friends the stars, who were so taken with Integra for choosing one of their own for the new Neverland that they wanted her to be sure of her way before leaving her for the day.

Feeling that Alucard was on his way back, the Neverland had again woke into life. We ought to use the pluperfect and say wakened, but woke is better and was always used by Alucard.

In his absence things are usually quiet on the island. The fairies take an hour longer in the morning, the beasts attend to their young, the natives feed heavily for six days and nights, and when pirates and lost boys meet they merely bite their thumbs at each other. But with the coming of Alucard, who hates lethargy, they are under way again: if you put your ear to the ground now, you would hear the whole island seething with life.

Integra stood on tip-toe in the air to get her first sight of the island. Strange to say, she recognized it at once, perhaps because she chose its present location, and until fear fell upon them she hailed it, not as something long dreamt of and seen at last, but as a familiar friend to who they were returning home for the holidays.

"Look Alucard, there's the lagoon!"

"Integra, look at the mermaids with their tails a glitter."

"I see them," she said indifferently, "Alucard, I see the smoke of the natives' camp!"

"Where? Show me, Integra, and I'll tell you by the way smoke curls whether they are on the war-path."

"There, just across the Mysterious River."

"I see now. Yes, they are on the war-path right enough."

Alucard was a little annoyed with Integra for knowing so much, for he had wanted to impress her with his own knowledge of the island, but if he wanted to lord it over her his triumph was at hand, for have I not told you that anon fear fell upon them?

"Alucard, look!" Integra cried, pointing back at the lagoon, "There is Captain Anderson and his ship, the _Iscariot_!"

As if in answer to her greeting, the air was rent by the most tremendous crash she had ever heard. The pirates had fired the Harkonnen Cannon at them.

Thus sharply did the terrified Integra learn the difference between an island of make-believe and the same island come true; as she poked her head up fearfully from the cloud Alucard had pushed her into for her own safety.

"Listen, Rip," Alucard said in his captain voice, "You take Integra to the island, and I'll stay here and draw their fire."

I don't know whether the idea came suddenly to Rip, or whether she had planned it on the way, but she at once popped out of the hat and began to lure Integra to her destruction.

Rip was not all bad; or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time. They are, however, allowed to change; only it must be a complete change. At present she was full of jealousy of Integra. What she said in her lovely tinkle Integra could not of course understand, and I believe some of it was bad words, but it sounded kind, and she flew back and forward, plainly meaning "Follow me, and all vill be vell."

What else could poor Integra do? She could not go to Alucard, since he was busy drawing cannons, and she did not yet know that Rip hated her with the fierce hatred of a very woman. And so, bewildered, and now staggering in her flight, she followed Rip to her doom.

Alucard whistled loudly. "_ISCARIOT_! _ISCARIOT_, YOU GOD-WADS! HERE!"

The roar of the next shots echoed through the mountains, and the echoes seemed to cry savagely, "Where are they, where are they, where are they?"

When Integra looked back at her guide, she noticed that Rip was flying at an alarming speed.

"Rip Van Winkle," she cried politely, "Not so fast, please Rip Van Winkle!"

When Rip did not slow, she tried again, "I can't keep up with you!"

At last, she cried at the top of her voice, "RIP VAN WINKLE! WAIT!"

But Rip would not wait, for she did not have patience enough for Integra to lead her slowly, despite her brilliant scheme, and so she sped toward the island like a sparkling blue bullet, with Integra, ever the inexperienced flier, trying desperately to keep up after her.

Let us now draw away from these children and come back to them later, for there are more pressing matters to attend to on the island.

On this morning the chief forces of the island were disposed as follows. The lost boys were out looking for Alucard, the pirates were out looking for the lost boys, the natives were out looking for the pirates, and the beasts were out looking for the natives. They were going round and round the island, but they did not meet because all were going at the same rate.

All wanted blood except the boys, who liked it as a rule, but to-night were out to greet their captain. The boys on the island vary, of course, in numbers, according as they get killed and so on; and when they seem to be growing up, which is against the rules, Alucard thins them out; but at this time there were six of them, counting the twins as two. Let us pretend to lie here among the sugar-cane and watch them as they steal by in single file, each with his hand on his dagger.

The first to pass is Walter, not the least brave but the most unfortunate of all that gallant band. He is fortunate in that he is the only one allowed to look like Alucard, but he was the son of a butler before making himself lost to Neverland, and is therefore at the butt of many jokes. Poor Walter, there is danger in the air for you to-night. Take care lest an adventure is now offered you, which, if accepted, will plunge you in deepest woe. Walter, the fairy Rip, who is bent on mischief this night is looking for a tool, and she thinks you are the most easily tricked of the boys. 'Ware Rip Van Winkle.

Would that he could hear us, but we are not really on the island, and he passes by, biting his knuckles, which are wound with deadly wires.

Next comes Pip, the gay and debonair, followed by Luke, the most conceited of the boys. He thinks he remembers the days before he was lost, with their manners and customs, and this has given his nose an offensive tilt. Jan, his younger brother, is fourth; he is a pickle, and so often has he had to deliver up his person when Alucard said sternly, "Stand forth the one who did this thing," that now at the command he stands forth automatically whether he has done it or not. Last come the Twins, who cannot be described because we should be sure to be describing the wrong one. Alucard never quite knew what twins were, and his band were not allowed to know anything he did not know, so these two were always vague about themselves, and did their best to give satisfaction by keeping close together in a apologetic sort of way.

The boys vanish in the gloom, and after a pause, but not a long pause, for things go briskly on the island, come the pirates on their track. We hear them before they are seen, and it is always the same dreadful song:

_"We ask o' thee. Whit **art** thou?"_

"We Art Iscariot! The Zealot Judas!"

_"In that case, Iscariot. We ask o' thee. . . Whit dost thou hold in thy **right hand**?"_

"Daggers! And Poisons!"

_"In that case, Iscariot. We ask o' thee. . . Whit dost thou hold in thy **left hand**?"_

"Thirty Pieces of Silver! And a Rope!"

_"In that case, Iscariot. **Whit art thou**?"_

_"As apostles yet not as apostles!_

_As adherents, yet not as adherents!_

_As believers, yet not as believers!"_

A more villainous-looking lot never hung in a row on Execution dock. At first glance, you should not see anything evil about them at all, for they seem to be good-natured priests in grey robes and gold crosses; but underneath their kind exterior are cold-hearted religious fanatics who will mercilessly kill anyone who does not follow their mad religion. In sooth they came to Neverland to convert its residents to their faith, and brutally murder and plunder the bodies of any and all who do not comply. On land we shall call them priests and at sea we shall call them pirates, for they are both. It is difficult to describe anyone in that grey, uniform crew, for the priests all look and act so similar to each other that it is impossible to tell one form the other; except the androgynous first mate Heinkel Wolfe, once an instructor in a private school and still dainty in his (or is it a her?) ways of killing; and the Japanese bo'sun Yumiko, an oddly genial woman who stabbed, so to speak, without offence, and was the only Non-white in Anderson's uniform crew.

In the midst of them, the greyest and largest in that dark setting, strode Alexander Anderson, or as he was also known to be called, Father Anderson, Paladin Anderson, Hit Man Anderson, Bayonet Anderson, Killing Judge Anderson, "Off With His Head" Anderson, Angel Dust Anderson; of whom it is said he was the only man that the Pope feared. He walked at ease here among his men, and ever and anon he encouraged them with hymns and praise to increase their pace; but hidden under his priestly robes were countless bayonets which he throws at his enemies like candy on the street. His eyes were of the green of the spring, and of a profound melancholy, save when he was plunging his bayonets into you, at which time two white spots appeared in them and lit them up horribly. In manner, something of the grand seigneur still clung to him, so that he even ripped you up with an air, and I have been told that he was a _raconteur_ of repute.

Let us now kill a priest, to show Anderson's method. Enrico Maxwell will do. As they pass, Maxwell lurches clumsily against him, raving about authority and respect, evidently drunk on power; the bayonets shoot forth, there are many stabbing sounds and one screech, then the body is kicked aside, a few prayers are murmured, and the pirates pass on. His glasses have not even slipped form his nose.

Such is the terrible man against whom Alucard is pitted. Which will win?

On the trail of the priests, stealing noiselessly down the war-path, which is not visible to inexperienced eyes, come the natives, every one of them with his eyes peeled. They carry tomahawks and knives, and their naked bodies gleam with paint and oil and the blood of enemies. Strung around them are scalps, of boys as well as of priests, for these are the Millennium tribe, and not to be confused with the softer-hearted Delawares or the Hurons.

In the van, on all fours, is Great Big Little Schrödinger's Cat, a brave of so many scalps that in his present position they somewhat impede his progress. Directly behind is the Witch Doctor, who is nagging orders that Great Big Little Schrödinger's Cat will never obey; and in the center, the place of greatest safety, waddles Heap Big Chief Montana Max, who is so grossly fat that it is a wonder he is able to maintain such a position of authority. Directly behind is the royal wet nurse Zorin Blitz, who has killed as many babes as she has nursed into adulthood.

Bringing up the rear, the place of greatest danger, comes Seras Victoria, a warrior and a princess in her own right. She is the most beautiful of dusky Dianas and the belle of the Millennium babes, innocent, wild and childish by turns; there is not a brave who would not have the wayward thing to wife, but she staves off the altar with a hatchet.

Observe how they pass over fallen twigs without making the slightest noise. The only sound to be heard is their somewhat heavy breathing. The fact is that they are all a little fat just now after the heavy gorging, but in time they will work this off; all except for Heap Big Chief, that is, for he is always fat. For the moment, however, it constitutes their chief danger.

The natives disappear as they have come like shadows, and soon their place is taken by the beasts, a great and motley procession: lions, tigers, bears, and the innumerable smaller savage things that flee from them, for every kind of beast, and, more particularly, all the man-eating monsters, live cheek by jowl on the favoured island. Their tongues are hanging out, they are hungry this morning.

When they have passed, comes the last figure of all, a gigantic crocodile. We shall see for whom she is looking presently.

The crocodile passes, but soon the boys appear again, for the procession must continue indefinitely until one of the parties stops or changes its pace. Then quickly they will be on top of each other.

All are keeping a sharp look-out in front, but none suspects that the danger may be creeping up from behind. This shows how real the island was.

The first to fall out of the moving circle was the boys. They flung themselves down on the sward, close to their underground home.

"I do wish Alucard would come back," every one of them said nervously, though in height and still more in breadth they were all larger than their captain.

"I am the only one who is not afraid of the pirates," Luke said, in the tone that prevented his being a general favourite; but perhaps some distant sound disturbed him, for he added hastily, "but I wish he would come back, and tell us whether he has heard anything more about Cinderella."

They talked of Cinderella, and Walter muttered contemptuously that his mother must have been very like her; a maid.

It was only in Alucard's absence that they could speak of mothers, the subject being forbidden by him as silly.

"All I remember about my mother," Pip told them, "is zat she often said to my father, 'Oh, 'ow I wish I had a cheque-book of my own!' I don't know what a cheque-book is, but I should just love to give my mother one."

"Fuck yeah!" Jan said, "That's why you're willing to kill yourself for a dirt-cheap piece of shit reward, ain't ya?"

I told you that Jan was a pickle.

While they talked they heard a distant sound. You or I, not being wild things of the woods, would have heard nothing, but they heard it, and it was the grim song:

"We art disciples of death!

The death disciple group!

_Only bowing and praying forgiveness of the Lord._

_Only bowing and defeating the enemies of the Lord._

_Wielding our daggers in the night and poisoning the evening meal._

We art Assassins! The Assassin Judas!

_When the time comes we shall cast our thirty pieces of silver at the alter . . . And hang thy head from our rope!_

_Thereby we shall fall into Hell in cabal!_

_Lined up in square formation. . . We seek to do battle with the seven million, four hundred-five thousand, nine hundred twenty-six demons of Hell._

Apocalypse Now!"

At once the lost boys—but where are they? They are no longer there. Rabbits could not have disappeared more quickly.

I will tell you where they are. With the exception of Pip, who has darted away to reconnoitre, they are already in their home under the ground, a very delightful residence of which we shall see a good deal presently. But how have they reached it? for there is no entrance to be seen, not so much as large stone, which if rolled away, would disclose the mouth of a cave. Look closely, however, and you may note that there are here seven large trees, each with a hole in its hollow trunk as large as a boy. These are the seven entrances to the home under the ground, for which Anderson has been searching in vain these many moons. Will he find it tonight?

As the priests advanced, the quick eye of Heinkel sighted Pip disappearing through the wood, and at once his, or is it a her? pistol flashed out. But an iron grip stayed his, or shall we call him a her? shoulder.

"Father, let go!" she cried, writhing.

Now for the first time we hear the voice of Anderson. It was a black voice. "Ye best be putting back that pistol first," it said amiably.

"It vas von of those boys you hate. I could haf shot him dead."

"Ay, and the sound would have brought Seras Victoria's redskins* upon us. Do you want tae lose your scalp?"

"Shall I after him, Father," asked pathetic Yumiko, "and sic him with Yumie?" Yumiko had pleasant nature, but her darker personality was called Yumie, because she did all the killing. One could only mention lovable traits in Yumiko. For instance, after Yumie's killing, it was her spectacles she wiped instead of her weapon.

"Yumie's a silent killer," she reminded Anderson, "when she wants to be."

"Nae now, Yumiko," Anderson said kindly. "He is only one, and I want tae mischief all the seven. Scatter and look for them."

The priests disappeared among the trees, and in a moment their Father and Yumiko were alone. Anderson heaved a heavy sigh, and I know not why it was, perhaps it was because of the soft beauty of the morning, but there came over him a desire to confide to his faithful bo'sun the story of his life. He spoke long and earnestly, but what it was all about Yumiko, who was rather stupid, did not know in the least.

Anon she caught the word Alucard.

"Most of all," Anderson was saying passionately. "I want their captain, Alucard. 'Twas he cut off my arm." He brandished the bayonet threateningly. "I've waited long to shake his hand with this. Oh, I'll tear him!"

"And yet," said Yumiko, "I remember that your hand grew back beautifully, Father, because you are a regenerator."

"Ay," Anderson answered. "If the operation were not so perilous, I would pray to have my children undergo this instead o' that," and he cast a look of pride upon his re-grown hand. Then again he frowned.

"Alucard flung my arm," he said, wincing, "tae a crocodile that happened tae be passing by."

"I have often," said Yumiko, "noticed your strange dread of crocodiles."

"Not o' crocodiles," Anderson corrected her, "but o' that one crocodile." He lowered his voice. "It liked my arm so much, Yumiko, that it has followed me ever since, from sea tae sea and from land tae land, licking its lips for the rest o' me."

"In a way," said Yumiko, "it's sort of a compliment."

"I want nae such compliments," Anderson barked petulantly. "I want Alucard, who first gave the brute its taste for me."

"I do not understand," Yumiko said, "why you are so afraid of the crocodile, Father, since you are a regenerator and could survive the encounter."

He sat down on a large mushroom, and now there was a quiver in his voice. "Yumiko," he said huskily, "that crocodile liked my taste so much that it has neglected its hunting in its quest to find me, and when it gets close, its hunger flares up in such a way that it will blindly consume anything that happens to be close by. It would have had me before this, but by a lucky chance it swallowed a clock which goes tick tick inside it, and so before it can reach me I hear the tick and bolt." He laughed, but in a hollow way.

"Some day," said Yumiko, "the clock will run down, and then he'll get us all."

Anderson wetted his dry lips. "Ay," he said, "that's the fear that haunts me."

At that moment, Gentleman Heinkel came bursting through the bushes, "Father, ve've spotted Alucard!"

At once, the bayonets shot out of his hands. "Where is he? I'll gut him!"

"He vas just seen flying back on the island," Heinkel said, "und he vasn't alone."

"Ay," said Anderson petulantly. "Nae doubt accompanied by that band o' scurvy brats."

"Nein," said Heinkel, looking through her scope. "This time he's . . . Mein Gott, he's accompanied by a fraulein."

Anderson's eyes widened, and then his mouth twists into a sinister leer. "Oh, he's at it again, eh?"

Heinkel began to answer, but she never finished it, for another sound broke in and stilled them. There was at first such a tiny sound that a leaf might have fallen on it and smothered it, but as it came nearer it was more distinct.

Tick tick tick tick.

Yumiko stood shuddering, one foot in the air.

"The crocodile!" she gasped, and bounded away, followed by her crew.

It was indeed the crocodile. It had passed the natives, who were now on the trail of the other pirates. It oozed on after Anderson.

"Yumiko!" the crew cried, "do not panic! The crocodile isn't even after you!"

"That's right! It only wants Anderson, you don't need to run!"

"Go on back to the _Iscariot_; the crocodile can't get us from there!"

Anderson gritted his teeth. Any other time, he would have turned to face the crocodile, but his concern for his crew and rivalry for Alucard were such that he put off the fighting and swore to face it another day.

"Ve haf tracked his coordinates at three point's starboard bow," Heinkel continued once they were aboard the _Iscariot_, "und ve haf taken out the big guns, ze Harkonnen Cannon."

"Ye best be calling off that attack," Anderson said darkly, "Far he, that boy, an a' with him are mah swoorn enemies. Mah arch enemies! Ah will defeat him. Ah am the only one tha may. Nae one can interfere! Nae one can have tha right! Nae one! _Nae one_!"

"But Father," Heinkel said nervously, "it ist too late now."

Once the coast was clear, the boys emerged into the open; but the dangers of the night were not yet over, for presently Pip rushed breathless into their midst, pursued by a pack of werewolves. The tongues of the pursuers were hanging out; the baying of them was horrible.

"Save me, save me!" cried Pip, falling on the ground.

"But what can we do, what can we do?"

It was a high compliment to Alucard that at that dire moment their thoughts turned to him.

"What would Alucard do?" they cried simultaneously.

Almost in the same breath they cried, "Alucard would look at them through his legs."

And then, "Let us do what Alucard would do."

Walter rolled his eyes, flicked his wires, and the next moment the werewolf that was trying to eat Pip's head fell off its shoulders, covering him with blood. With another flick more werewolves fell to the ground in pieces, and the other werewolves dropped their tails and fled.

Walter approached the lost boys scornfully. "Through his legs?" they bowed their heads in shame.

Now Pip rose from the ground, dusting himself off, and the others thought that his staring eyes still saw the werewolves. But it was not werewolves he saw.

"I 'ave seen a wonderfuller thing," he cried, as they gathered round him eagerly. "A great white bird with golden 'ead feazers and blue tail feazers. It is flying zis way."

"What kind of a bird, do you think?"

"I don't know," Pip said, awestruck, "but it looks so weary, and as it flies its 'ead feazers flutter in ze wind."

"I remember," said Luke instantly, "there are birds called Wendies."

"Fuck yeah! Here it comes!" cried Jan, pointing to Integra in the heavens.

Integra was now almost overhead, and they could see her defining hair. But more distinct came the shrill voice of Rip Van Winkle. The jealous fairy had now cast off all disguise of friendship, and was darting at her victim from every direction, pelting savagely each time she touched.

"Hullo, Rip," cried the wondering boys.

Rip's reply rang out: "Alucard wants you to shoot the Wendy."

It was not in their nature to question when Alucard ordered. "Let us do what Alucard wishes!" cried the simple boys. "Quick, bows and arrows!"

All but Walter popped down their trees. He was a bit skeptical of Rip's orders; but he had a quiver on his back and a wire that could be used as a makeshift bowstring if held tight enough, and Rip noted it, and rubbed her little hands.

"Quick, Valter, quick," she screamed. "Alucard vill be so pleased!"

Walter eagerly held his wire taut against a tree branch and fitted the arrow to his make-shift bow. "Out of the way, Rip," he shouted, and then he fired, and Integra fell toward the ground with an arrow in her breast.

* * *

* Sorry to use the "redskin" racial slurr, it was just to show that the priests are racist jerks.

Also, regardless of what I've written before this, I apologize for all the stereotypical Native American behaviors that are and will be presented in this fanfic. I'd like to disclaim that this was in J.M. Barrie's original novel, back when political correctness only applied to white Christian males. Plus, these guys are native to Neverland, not the Americas, so stereotypical stigmas don't necessarily apply to them. Plus, I make fun of white priest stereotypes too, so I'm an equal-opportunity offender.


	5. The Grand Mansion

Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to update, I picked too many units to take over the summer break. -_-;

Disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of Hellsing or Peter Pan. If I did, I wouldn't be publishing this here. (Much as I love you guys.)

* * *

Rip Van Winkle watched with glee as Integra fell toward the earth with her head first, her arms outstretched and unable stop or change direction. However, Alucard shot through the air and caught her moments before she landed, and he held her like a bride as he landed gently on the rocks.

Rip Van Winkle could barely contain her fit of rage, she was so angry.

For his part, Alucard was so preoccupied with his own heroism that he did not yet notice the arrow in Integra's breast, for he had arrived quite literally in the nick of time, and he was very gratified when she threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh Alucard," she whispered, "You saved my life."

And with a thimble, she went limb in his arms.

Alucard was confused, and then he was beside himself with distress. This was not how it was supposed to happen! He laid her on the rocks, and after he had fussed for a little time he did not know what to do next.

"Do not die Integra," he said desperately. "You will be very frightened at being dead!"

Would Alucard have gone part of the way with Integra, as Sir Irons had said, so that she would not be frightened? We will never know, for at that moment the other boys sprang, armed, from their trees.

"You are too late," Walter cried proudly, "I have shot the Wendy. Alucard will be so pleased with me."

Overhead Rip Van Winkle shouted "Silly ass!" and darted into hiding. The others did not hear her. They were all too busy trying to take credit for the killing of the Wendy Bird. Alucard was so angry, he thought he could murder them all. He had done such a thing before.

Instead he cried, "Stand forth the one who did this thing," and they all stood forth.

"We have killed the Wendy Bird," they all cried, "Alucard, aren't you so pleased with me?"

"This is no bird, you block-heads," Alucard shouted, "This is a lady!"

Realization fell over the boys like a shroud.

"A lady?" said Luke, and fell a-trembling.

"And we 'ave killed her," Pip said hoarsely.

"That's right; you _have_ killed her," Alucard said. He was filled with such a terrible rage he felt he could kill them all. He had done such a thing before.

But there was the arrow to consider. He took it from her heart and faced his band.

"Whose arrow?" he demanded sternly.

"Mine, Alucard," said Walter calmly.

"Oh, dastard hand," Alucard said, and he raised the arrow to use it as a dagger.

Walter did not flinch. He bared his wires. "Strike, Alucard," he said firmly, "just try and strike true."

All looked at him in wonder, save Pip, who fortunately looked at Integra.

"It is she," he cried, "ze Wendy lady, see, her arm!"

Wondefull to relate, Integra had twitched her arm.

"She lives," Alucard said briefly.

Luke cried instantly, "The Wendy lady lives."

"Her name is Integra!" Alucard snapped.

Then Alucard knelt beside her and found his button. You remember she had put it on a chain that she wore round her neck.

"See," he said, "the arrow struck against this. It is the kiss I gave her. It has saved her life."

"I remember kisses," Luke interposed quickly, "let me see it. Ay, that's a kiss."

Alucard did not hear him. He was begging Integra to get better quickly, so that he could show her the mermaids. Of course she could not answer yet, being still in a frightful faint; but from overhead came a wailing note.

"Cut the damn waterworks already, Rip," Jan snapped, "So what if the fucking Wendy lives?"

"What is going on?" Alucard demanded.

"It is Rip," said Pip, "she is crying because ze Wendy lives."

Then they had to tell Alucard of Rip's crime, and almost never had they seen him look so angry.

"Listen, Rip Van Winkle," he cried, "You have tried to kill my master with an arrow, and so the penalty is death by impalement."

This was Alucard's penalty for all crimes, though no one had ever told him so, but it was rather fitting in this situation.

If Rip had believed that Alucard would spare her because of their bond, she was gravely mistaken. She flew on to his shoulder and pleaded, but he brushed her off, and held her against a tree with Walter's arrow pressed firmly against her breast. "'Ware Rip Van Winkle," Alucard said savagely, "For if you flirt with spirits, then you shall become one."

Not until Integra woke asking to let her go did he relent sufficiently to say, "Rip Van Winkle, I am your friend no more. Begone from me for ever."

Do you think Rip Van Winkle was grateful to Integra for saving her life? Oh dear no, never wanted to pelt her so much. Fairies indeed are strange, and Alucard, who understood them best, often cuffed them. Turning red with rage, Rip shot from the lost boys like a fiery bullet, singeing many leaves in her wake.

When Integra came to, she found herself lying in the middle of a strange forest, surrounded by wild boys dressed in animal furs; one had dark hair and a pale face, one was pale all the way though with an unpleasantly pointed face, one was dark in all ways except his pale eyes, one had wild red hair with a strange nose band, and two were not very distinguishable in their own right.

"Where am I?" she said.

Of course Luke was the first to get his word in. "Wendy lady," he said rapidly, "you are in Neverland."

And then Integra rubbed her eyes and muttered, "It's true then, we did fly."

You may be sure she was very relieved to find Alucard.

"Come on, Integra," Alucard said, taking her hand. "I'll show you the island; we can go see the mermaids."

"Oh Alucard, let's not," Integra sighed wearily, "We only just arrived and I haven't been introduced to your gallant band yet. Perhaps if we could"; but as Integra went to stand, she suddenly collapsed onto her knees, with much surprise, and put the lost boys in a panic.

After much fussing from the boys and calm reassurances from Integra, it was decided that she would need to avoid swimming in the lagoon for the afternoon. But what to do with Integra in her present delicate state of health?

"We could just fucking carry her down into the damn house," Jan suggested.

"Ay," said Luke, "that is what one does with ladies."

Integra gulped, and tucked her skirt around her knees defensively.

"No, no," Alucard said, "you must not touch her. It would not be sufficiently respectful."

"That," said Luke, "is was I was thinking."

Integra sighed, and released her skirts again.

"But if she lies there," Walter said insincerely, "she will die."

"What?" Integra cried, "Did you just say I was going to die?"

"Of course," Walter said, "The fresh morning air will simply kill you."

"Ay, she will die," Luke admitted, "but there is no way out."

"Yes, there is," cried Alucard. "Let us build a little house round her."

"Now wait a minute," Integra cried indignantly, "That's going too far!"

But they were all delighted. "Quick," he ordered them, "bring me each of you the best of what we have. Gut our house. Be sharp."

In a moment they were as busy as tailors the night before a wedding. They skurried this way and that, down for bedding, up for firewood, and while they were at it, who should complain but Luke and Jan? As they dragged along the ground they fell asleep standing, stopped, woke up, moved another step and slept again.

"Man, this fucking blows," Jan said, "we ought to get the bitch to make supper for us instead," but as he said it some of the other boys rushed by carrying branches for the building of the house and nearly knocked him down. "Hey, look out!" he cried.

"Walter," said Alucard in his most captainy voice, "see that these boys help in the building of the house." He was very busy at the moment measuring Integra with his feet to see how large a house she would need. Of course he meant to leave room for chairs and a table.

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Build a house?" exclaimed Jan.

"For Integra," said Walter.

"For Integra?" Luke said, aghast. "I thought it was for us!"

"Yeah," Jan cried, "Why her? She's only a girl!"

"That," explained Walter, "is why we are her servants."

"You? Integra's servants!"

"Yes," said Alucard, "and you also. Away with them."

The astounded brothers were dragged away to hack and hew and carry. "Chairs and a fender first," Alucard ordered. "Then we shall build a house round them."

"Ay," said Luke instantly, his earlier indignation forgotten, "that is how a house is built; it all comes back to me."

Alucard thought of everything. "Luke," he cried, "fetch a doctor."

"Ay, ay," said Luke at once, and disappeared, scratching his head.

"But ze only doctor in Neverland," whispered Pip, "is zat 'orrible Witch Doctor from ze Millennium Tribe."

"Fat chance!" Jan yelled obnoxiously. "He'd just poison Integra and make her into a vampire!"

"Really now," Integra said, "Don't fuss over me. A quick cup of tea and I'll be right as rain. If you'll excuse me"; but her legs gave out from under her once again.

"Luke!" Alucard cried, "We need that doctor!"

Luke had no idea what to do, but he knew Alucard must be obeyed, and he returned in a moment, wearing Integra's glasses and looking solemn.

"Please, sir," said Alucard, going to him, "are you a doctor?"

Integra blinked. In time she would learn the real difference between Alucard and the other boys at such a time was that they knew it was make-believe, while to him make-believe and true were exactly the same thing. This sometimes troubled them, as when they had to make-believe that they had had their dinners.

If they broke down in their make-believe he impaled them on the knuckles.

"Yes, my little man," anxiously replied Luke, who had many pin-prick stab wounds on his knuckles.

"Please, sir," Alucard explained, "a lady lies very ill."

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you," Integra corrected.

She was lying at their feet, but Luke had the sense not to see her.

"Tut, tut, tut," he said, "where does she lie?"

"In yonder glade."

"I'm right here!"

"I will put a glass thing in her mouth," said Luke.

"You mean a thermometer?" Integra asked helpfully.

"Yes, a glass thing," said Luke, and he made-believe to do it, while Alucard waited.

It was an anxious moment when the glass thing was withdrawn.

"How is she?" inquired Alucard.

"Tut, tut, tut," said Luke, "this has cured her."

"I am glad!" Alucard cried.

"Oh joy!" Integra said.

"I will call again in the evening," Luke said; "give her beef tea out of a cup with a spout to it." But after he had returned the glasses to Integra he blew big breaths, which was his habit on escaping from a difficulty.

Walter and Integra exchanged glances.

In the meantime the wood had been alive with the sound of axes; almost everything needed for a cosy dwelling already lay at Integra's feet.

"If only we knew," said one, "the kind of house she likes best."

"If only I were sitting right here," Integra said, "so that I may tell you."

Of course, it was to no avail.

"_I _know what kind of home Integra likes," Alucard said, "Integra is from a wealthy family, and so she would like a grand mansion!"

"Oh, fuck no!" Jan shouted, throwing his hammer to the gound. "I'm not building some giant mansion so Miss Rich Bitch can enjoy the style she's accustomed."

But at that moment Alucard pressed a sharp stick to his throat, and said, "You _will_ build it, and you're going to like it," and pushed Jan away.

Fortunately, as we have mentioned, make-believe and real were the same to Alucard, so the boys made-believe build a grand mansion while really not changing the size one bit. This relieved Integra to hear, who did not want to put the boys to any unnecessary trouble, though they had hoisted the walls around her so she could not see what it was they were building.

"How shall we make the mansion look from the outside, Alucard?"

"Perhaps if I were outside," Integra said from within, "I might be able to direct you…"

"You cannot ask her," Alucard said, "for she is sleeping inside will be unable to answer for this time."

"Really now…" Integra began, but to no avail.

"So we will never know what Integra likes? How tragic!" the twins cried.

"Perhaps she is going to sing in her sleep," said Alucard. "Integra, sing the kind of mansion you would like to have."

Giving up on logic with the lost boys, but determined to make them listen to her in the future, Integra began to sing:

_"I wish I had a great mansion,_

_The largest ever seen,_

_With funny red walls_

_And roof of mossy green." _

They gurgled with joy at this, for by the greatest good luck the branches they had brought were sticky with red sap, and all the ground was carpeted with moss. Of course, this was Integra's plan, but they could hardly guess. As they rattled up the little house they broke into song themselves:

_"We've built the red walls and roof_

_And made a lovely door,_

_So tell us, Master Integra,_

_What are you wanting more?" _

To this she answered uneasily:

_"Oh, really next I think I'll have_

_Gay windows all about,_

_With roses peeping in, you know,_

_And servants peeping out." _

With a blow of their fists they made windows, and large yellow leaves were the blinds. But roses-?

"Roses," cried Alucard sternly.

Quickly they made-believe to grow the loveliest roses up the walls.

Servants?

To prevent Alucard ordering they hurried into song again:

_"We've made the roses peeping out,_

_The servants are at the door,_

_We cannot make ourselves, you know,_

_'cos we've been made before." _

Alucard, seeing this to be a good idea, at once pretended that it was his own. The house was quite beautiful, and no doubt Integra was very cosy within, though, of course, they could no longer see her. Alucard strode up and down, ordering finishing touches. Nothing escaped his eagle eyes. Just when it seemed absolutely finished:

"There's no knocker on the door," he said.

They were very ashamed, but Walter gave the sole of his shoe, and it made an excellent knocker.

Absolutely finished now, they thought.

Not of bit of it. "There's no chimney," Alucard said; "we must have a chimney."

"It certainly does need a chimney," said Luke importantly. This gave Alucard an idea. He snatched the hat off Luke's head, knocked out the bottom, and put the hat on the roof. The little house was so pleased to have such a capital chimney that, as if to say thank you, smoke immediately began to come out of the hat.

Now really and truly it was finished. Nothing remained to do but to knock.

"All look your best," Alucard warned them; "first impressions are awfully important."

He was glad no one asked him what first impressions are; they were all too busy looking their best.

He knocked politely, and now the wood was as still as the children, not a sound to be heard except from Rip Van Winkle, who was watching from a branch and openly sneering.

What the boys were wondering was, would any one answer the knock? If a lady, what would she be like?

The door opened and a lady came out. It was Integra. They all whipped off their hats.

She looked properly surprised, and this was just how they had hoped she would look.

"What is this?" she said.

Of course Luke was the first to get his word in. "Lady Integra," he said rapidly, "for you we built this grand mansion."

"Oh, say you're pleased," cried Pip.

"Great, grand mansion," Integra said uneasily, but they were the very words they had hoped she would say.

"And we are your servants," cried the twins.

Then all went on their knees, and holding out their arms cried, "O Lady Integra, be our master."

"Ought I?" Integra said, all shining. "Of course it's frightfully fascinating, but you see I am only a little girl. I have no real experience."

"That doesn't matter," said Alucard, as if he were the only person present who knew all about it. "What we need is just a strong commanding person."

"Oh dear!" Integra said, "you see, I feel that is exactly what I am not."

"It is, it is," they all insisted; "we saw it at once."

"Very well, I will do my best." She cleared her throat, "Come inside at once, you naughty children; I am sure your feet are damp. And before I put you to bed I have just time to finish the story of Cinderella."

So Integra came across as more of a mother than a master, but didn't she say she had no real experience?

In they went; I don't know how there was room for them, but you can squeeze very tight in the Neverland. And that was the first of the many joyous evenings they had with Integra. By and by she tucked them up in the great bed in the home under the trees, but she herself slept that night in the grand mansion, and Alucard kept watch outside with drawn sword, for the priests could be heard carousing far away and the werewolves were on the prowl. The grand mansion looked so cosy and safe in the darkness, with a bright light showing through its blinds, and the chimney smoking beautifully, and Alucard standing on guard. After a time he fell asleep, and some unsteady fairies had to climb over him on their way home from an orgy. Any of the other boys obstructing the fairy path at night they would have mischiefed, but they just tweaked Alucard's nose and passed on.


	6. The Hellsing Organization

Author's Notes: I'm sure you know I'm sorry for not updating more often, but I'm sure you don't know how difficult it is to make time to type these fics.

Disclaimer: I do not own or make money off of Hellsing or Peter Pan; those special privileges go toward Kohta Hirano and St. Ormond Street Hospital.

* * *

One of the first things Alucard did next day was to measure Integra for hollow trees. Anderson had sneered at the boys for thinking they needed a tree apiece, but this was ignorance, for unless your tree fitted you it was difficult to go up and down, and no two of the boys were quite the same size. Once you fitted, you drew in your breath at the top, and down you went at exactly the right speed, while to ascend you drew in and let out alternately, and so wriggled up. Of course, when you have mastered the action you are able to do these things without thinking of them, and nothing can be more graceful.

But you simply must fit, and Alucard measures you for your tree as carefully as for a suit of clothes: the only difference being that the clothes are made to fit you, while you have to be made to fit the tree. Usually it is done quite easily, as by your wearing too many garments or too few, but if you are bumpy in awkward places or the only available tree is an odd shape, Alucard does some things to you, and after that you fit. Once you fit, great care must be taken to go on fitting, and this, as Integra was to discover to her delight, keeps a whole organization in perfect condition.

Integra would have fitted her tree at the first try, but her skirt had to be altered a little.

"That's what you get for inviting a fucking _girl_ on the team," Jan started, but was silenced with a bop on the head by Walter.

After a few days' practice she could go up and down as gaily as a bucket in a well. And how ardently she grew to love her home under the ground!

It consisted of one large room, as all houses should do, with a floor in which you could dig if you wanted to go fishing, and in this floor grew stout mushrooms of a charming colour, which were used as stools. A Never tree tried hard to grow in the centre of the room, but every morning they sawed the trunk through, level with the floor. By tea-time it was always about two feet high, and then they put a door on top of it, the whole thus becoming a table; as soon as they cleared away, they sawed off the trunk again, and thus there was more room to play.

There was an enourmous fireplace which was in almost any part of the room where you cared to light it, and across this Integra came down in the evenings to ink pens made of feathers, for which she did her writing. The bed was tilted against the wall by day, and let down at 6:30, when it filled nearly half the room; and all the boys slept in it like sardines in a tin. There was a strict rule against turning round until one gave the signal, when all turned at once.

It was rough and simple, and not unlike what baby bears would have made of an underground house in the same circumstances. But there was one recess in the wall, no larger than a bird-cage, which was the private apartment of Rip Van Winkle. It could be shut off from the rest of the house by a tiny curtain, which Rip, who was most fastidious, always kept drawn when dressing or undressing. No woman, however large, could have had a more exquisite boudoir and bed-chamber combined. The couch, as she always called it, was a genuine Queen Mab, with club legs; and she varied the bedspreads according to what fruit-blossom was in season. Her mirror was a Puss-in-Boots, of which there are now only three, unchipped, known to fairy dealers; the washstand was Pie-crust and reversible, the chest of drawers an authentic Charming the Sixth, and the carpet and rugs the best (the early) period of Margery and Robin. There was a chandelier from Tiddlywinks for the look of the thing, but of course she lit the residence herself. Rip was very contemptuous of the rest of the house, as indeed was perhaps inevitable, and her chamber, though beautiful, looked rather conceited, having the appearance of a nose permanently turned up.

I suppose it was all especially entrancing to Integra, because those rampageous boys of hers gave her so much to do. Really there were whole weeks when, except perhaps to mail a letter in the evening, she was never above ground. Really, there was so much for a master to do that she had to stay home to make sure it was done.

She would have had to do the cooking if her status as master had not declared it beneath her, and so the task was fell to Jan because he complained the most.

The cooking, I can tell you, kept his nose to the pot, and even if there was nothing in it, even if there was no pot, he had to keep watching that it came a boil just the same.

You never exactly knew whether there would be a real meal or just a make-believe, it all depended upon Alucard's whim: he could eat, really eat, if it was part of a game, but he could not stodge just to feel stodgy, which is what most children like better than anything else; the next best thing being to talk about it. Make-believe was so real to him that during a meal of it you could see him getting rounder. Of course it was trying, but you simply had to follow his lead, and if you could prove to him that you were getting loose for your tree he let you stodge.

Such was the way in the Neverland before the coming of Integra.

"I was hoping for real food," Integra said with disappointment when Walter presented her with an empty plate with much impressments.

"Oh, hell no!" Jan snapped, "Not this shit again! I spent all fucking day at the stove; you're going to eat it and you're gonna fucking to like it!"

"Eat what?" Integra retorted, "There's nothing here! Rip Van Winkle eats more than this!"

Rip Van Winkle sent Integra a few choice words from the cuckoo clock.

"I do not see why you insist there is nothing here, Master, when there is so much to eat," Alucard said, after he impaled Jan's knuckles for his rudeness, "But if you do not like the food that is here, I can have Jan cook you something else."

"Alucard, no," Integra said sternly, "Not today. We've made-believe all our meals for the past two days, and that is fine; but now I'm _really_ hungry and I want _real_ food!"

But Alucard would not give up the game of make-believe; and so Integra, tired of trying to explain to her unwilling servant, got up and left.

There was a terrible moment where the lost boys did not know what to do.

"Integra has broken down on her make-believe," they said, "And Alucard will be angry with us if we do too."

And then, "But Integra is our master, and Alucard's too. Should we not follow our master?"

And so first Walter, then Pip, then all the lost boys got up and followed her.

Jan was the last to leave. "Enjoy your fucking meal, bitch!" he yelled, threw his chef's hat on the ground, and left.

Rip Van Winkle was eager for blood, but Alucard only shrugged and assured her carelessly, "They'll be back."

Integra and the lost boys, for their part, had such a marvelous time hunting, fishing, gathering wild berries and rescuing the twins after they'd been run up a tree by werewolves that they quickly forgot Alucard's threat, and when they settled down to a real feast in the Hellsing Manor, where they stodged, really stodged, all night until Integra tucked them into bed before dawn, that they felt sure that they _never_ wanted to go back to the home underground.

But they were not sure that the mansion was perfectly safe from enemies, you know, since it was out in the open, and so Integra ordered Luke and Jan to test the mansion's security by staging a make-believe attack on the mansion and seeing how they would fare.

The difference between make-believe and real was unfortunately still shaky with the Valentine Brothers, however, and so they gathered an army of real ghouls and staged a real attack when Integra least expected it, and the ghouls flooded the "grand mansion" as though it were made of sticks. Indeed, it was made of sticks.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" Jan spotted Integra and Walter glaring at him from the chimney. "All right! This message is going out to the Hellsing mansion, and a very personal and heart-felt shout-out to the hellbitch whore herself, Miss Hellsing! If inquiring minds wanna know, your ass is currently being kicked by the Valentine Brothers! My name is Jan Valentine, and I can't wait to mEAT each and every one of you!"

"Jan, stop this!" Integra demanded, "You've inspected the security, now it is time to withdraw!"

"No can do, little lady," Jan said, "We were hired as a top notch army to attack the Hellsing mansion so see how would hold up, and it is not fucking holding up! We'll have to see if the whole thing is this fucking brittle, and that includes each and every single fucking level! You've got nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. I highly recommend pissing yourself, followed by a course of praying to your impotent God. But hey, you may even still have time for our special suicide offer (highly recommended). Thank you Neverland, we love you! Good night!"

And so the ghouls continued to ransack the "grand mansion" unmolested.

"Walter, I'll be frank," Integra said from the rooftop, "Is this the end for us all?"

"No!" Walter exclaimed confidently, pointing a finger in the air, "Not in the least! Considering what our previous master had to endure half a century ago, this is hardly what I'd call a pinch! We will easily subdue them and rebuild before dinner!"

"But how?" Integra asked, nervously, "The Twins have taken the day off, and it will be four or five hours before Pip returns from hunting."

"Quite easily," Walter replied, "It will be an ambush, Alucard from the home underground, and us from the roof."

"Are you sure we can rely on him?" Integra asked sadly, "Alucard is rather angry with us; how can we be sure he will help?"

"Trust me, Lady Integra," Walter said, "You are the only person Alucard truly cares for; angry or not, he _will_ come to our aid once he sees that his master is in danger. Even in make-believe, Alucard would never allow you to be harmed."

"All right then," Integra said more confidently. "They will _not_ get away with this. Do _not_ let them leave this place alive!"

Now Walter had a rather sadistic streak, which manifested itself in times of battle, and so he smirked at her command and said only, "But of course, my dear lady Integra!"

Just as Jan was about to climb the roof to where Integra was residing, Walter's thin wires shot seemingly how of nowhere and began destroying all the ghouls around him. "I highly recommend pissing yourself," Walter taunted, "followed by a course of praying to your impotent god." But Jan was not one to give up quite so easily, bless him, and he and Walter soon fought a bitter struggle to the death.

Meanwhile, Luke had descended into the house underground, which he called the "basement"—because all mansions had basements, right?—where he found a very bored-looking Alucard waiting for him; and after a very dramatic introduction and stand-off, they began to fight. Luke felt that if he made-believe he was stronger than Alucard, then he really would win, and for a while it seemed that he would, before Alucard summoned a few make-believe hell hounds and really broke both of Luke's legs. When Luke realized that Alucard really would kill him, he made-believe die, hoping that Alucard would stop. Thankfully, as we have seen, make-believe and real were the same to Alucard, and he quickly lost interest.

Walter, in the mean time, had subdued Jan by kicking him into a wall, and demanded that he give up immediately.

"You are so fucking senile old _butt_ler," Jan said.

At that moment, Integra approached.

"What up, bitch?"

Integra, who truly had quite enough of make-believe, took a real bow and fired two real arrows. She missed the vital organs, of course, but she did not try to spare his feelings.

"We'll have no more of that," she said calmly, "I'm pissed off."

Jan chuckled, and then groaned with pain. "Ow. . ."

"This game has gone on long enough," Integra continued fiercely, "You've had your fun, now call off this make-believe attack or I really _will_ kill you!"

All Integra had to do was draw another arrow for Jan to desperately call off the attack.

It was the sight of the grand mansion in splinters on the ground, the bodies of ghouls strewn everywhere, Luke having his broken legs bandaged by a Twin Doctor, Jan having the arrows pulled out of his rear by the other Twin Doctor, Integra and Walter covered in sweat and blood, and Alucard chuckling in amusement from a tree that Pip came back from his hunt, with a wild boar strewn across his back for dinner.

"What did I miss?" he said.

Integra ordered the mansion to be rebuilt stronger than ever, and decided that in light of the ghoul attack, their new objective would be to hunt ghouls, vampires, werewolves and other monsters that went bump in the night in service of England—er, Neverland. The Neverland was too dangerous for civilized people to live, Integra gathered, and so their job would be to protect the Neverland from the monsters that would prey on its citizens. The mansion would be not a only a home, but a base of operations for the prestigious Hellsing Organization, a group of specialized forces that would protect the Neverland in the name of Her Majesty, the Protestant Church and England, amen.

"Moreover," Integra said, "The difference between make-believe and reality will be determined by me. If you wish to make-believe harmless things like planting roses or running an organization, that is fine. But if you want to make-believe big things like eating a meal—which is important not to skip out on—or attacking an establishment with ghouls, you WILL consult me first, because I WILL NOT hesitate to put you in your place when things get out of hand! Is that clear?"

"Crystal," the lost boys said, and gulped.

Alucard was pleased that Integra was becoming the fine master he hoped she would be, and boasted that the Hellsing Organization would soon become a force to be reckoned with; better than Millennium or Iscariot; enough to put even Father Anderson in his place!

Of course, they would need a personal army to defend the Hellsing mansion, since the last one got destroyed, and so Walter made-believe hired a mercenary unit known as the Wild Geese, led by Captain Pip Bernadotte. Pip asked for a little money to start the job; Integra did not have any money on her, and so she scooped up a bit of dirt and made-believe it was pay.

Pip accepted it gratefully, and saluted, "I shall serve Hellsing loyally and with my life!"

"Now you finally got your dirt-cheap piece of shit pay!" Jan laughed.

And so the Hellsing Organization proved to be a great success in Neverland. With all the lost boys working together; Alucard as the trump card to kill vampires, and Pip and the Twins as arms for hire to defend the mansion and Walter as the butler to serve tea, Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing saw to it that the Hellsing Organization ran as smoothly and efficiently as cogs in a clock. Alucard would go out to kill monsters at night, Pip would defend the mansion, the twins would scout for danger and Walter would see that Integra was looked after, since she had more planning, organizing and writing to do than any of them.

Integra's favourite time for writing and scheduling was after they had all gone to bed. Then, as she expressed it, she had a breathing time for herself; and she occupied it in making blueprints for the next project, and battle strategies for their next conquest, and writing letters and answering bills for equipment, and writing them all in short hand, for they went through frightfully so much paper.

When she sat down to a basketful of bills, every one with a red notice on it, she would fling up her arms and exclaim, "Oh dear, I am sure I sometimes think spinsters are to be envied!"

Her face beamed when she exclaimed this.

As time wore on did she think much about the beloved captain she had left behind her? This is a difficult question, because it is quite impossible to say how time does wear on in the Neverland, where it is calculated by moons and suns, and there are ever so many more of them than on the mainland. But I am afraid that Integra did not really worry about her beloved nurse; she was absolutely confident that he was perfectly fine and would always keep the window open for her to fly back by, and this gave her complete ease of mind. What did disturb her at times was that she remembered her father vaguely only, as someone she had once known, and at times really believed that the captain was her mother. These things scared her a little, and nobly anxious to do her duty, she tried to fix the old life in her mind by setting examination papers on it, as like as possible to the ones her father used to give her.

The other boys thought this awfully interesting, and insisted on joining, and they made slates for themselves, and sat round the table, writing and thinking hard about the questions she had written on another slate and passed round. They were the most ordinary questions - "What was the colour of the Captain's eyes? Which was taller, Father or Uncle? Was the Captain blonde or brunette? Answer all three questions if possible." "(A) Write an essay of not less than 40 words on How I Spent My Last Holidays, or The Characters of Father and Uncle Compared. Only one of these to be attempted." Or "(1) Describe Father's laugh; (3) Describe Uncle's Braided Trousers; (4) Describe the Kennel and its Inmate."

They were just everyday questions like these, and when you could not answer them you were told to make a cross; and it was really dreadful what a number of crosses even Integra made. Of course the only boy who replied to every question was Luke, and no one could have been more hopeful of coming out first, but his answers were perfectly ridiculous, and he really came out last: a melancholy thing.

Alucard did not compete. For one thing he despised all fathers, and for another he was the only boy on the island who could neither write nor spell; not the smallest word. He was above all that sort of thing.

By the way, the questions were all written in the past tense. What _was_ the colour of Captain's eyes, and so on. Integra, you see, had been forgetting, despite her best efforts.

Adventures, of course, as we shall see, were of daily occurrence; but about this time Alucard invented, with Integra's help, a new game that fascinated him enormously, until he suddenly had no more interest in it, which was what always happened with his games. It consisted in pretending not to have adventures, in doing the sort of thing Integra had been doing all her life, sitting on stools flinging balls in the air, and going out for walks and coming back without having killed so much as a grizzly. To see Alucard doing nothing on a stool was a great sight; he could not help looking solemn at such times, to sit still seemed to him such a comic thing to do. He boasted that he had gone walking for the good of his health. For several suns these were the most novel of all adventures to him; and Luke and Jan had to pretend to be delighted also; otherwise he would have treated them severely.

He often went out alone, and when he came back you were never absolutely certain whether he had had an adventure or not. He might have forgotten it so completely that he said nothing about it, and then when you went out you found the body. On the other hand, he might say a great deal about it, and yet you could not find the body. Sometimes he came home with his head bandaged, and then Integra cooed over him and bathed it in lukewarm water, while he told a dazzling tale. But she was never quite sure, you know.

There were, however, many adventures which she knew to be true because she was in them herself, and there were still more that were at least partly true, for the other boys were in them and said they were wholly true. To describe them all would require a book as large as an English-Latin, Latin-English Dictionary, and the most we can do is to give one as a specimen of an average hour on the island.

The difficulty is which one to choose. Should we take the brush with the natives at Cheddar Gorge? It was a sanguinary affair, and especially interesting as showing one of Alucard's peculiarities, which was that in the middle of a fight he would suddenly change sides. At the Gorge, when victory was still in the balance, sometimes leaning this way and sometimes that, he called out, "I'm redskin to-day*; what are you, Walter?" And Walter answered, "Redskin; what are you, Pip?" and Pip said, "Redskin; what are you Twin?" and so on, and they were all natives. And of course this would have ended the fight had not the real natives fascinated by Alucard's methods, agreed to be lost boys for that once, and so at it they all went again, more fiercely than ever.

It looked as though the battle would go on forever, until that familiar head of black and strawberry blonde came bouncing into view.

"Walter," Integra said from the sidelines, "Who is that?"

"That? That's Seras Victoria," he answered, "The chief's daughter."

"That's funny," Integra said, "She doesn't look like a Picaninny."**

"Why, Integra, I'm surprised to hear that coming from you!" Walter smirked.

Integra glared at him fiercely. "I didn't ask your opinion, butler!"

"I don't get it," Jan said cluelessly, "What's a picaninny?"

"You're a picaninny!" Luke snapped.

"I mean," Integra said patiently, remembering her manners, "She doesn't look like she belongs to this tribe."

"Zat's because she doesn't," Pip said, "Yup, zat's Seras, she's from ze Millennium War tribe, and zey're mean as bull dogs. We're in for a lot of hurt."

Sure enough, a dozen Millennium warriors sprung up from seemingly out of nowhere and Seras proved her prowess in battle by directing them to attack native and lost boy alike, regardless of which side they were on, and the former tribe fled while lost boys stood their ground; and it seemed Millennium would win until Alucard began his game of switching between native and lost boy anew, and the Millennium warrior thought it so comical that they all switched and were tied all over again.

This infuriated Seras.

"Great Big Little Schrodinger's Cat," she screeched, "What are you doing?"

"I am a lost boy today!" Great Big Little Schrodinger's Cat grinned.

"Like hell you are!" she snapped, "Get back here now!"

And so some of the Millennium warriors switched back to their side, while others remained on Hellsing's side, and some remained with Hellsing while others switched over to Millennium. The first to switch was Walter, Luke and Jan; but Pip hated Millennium so much that he would not switch for a moment, but still others went back and forth so much that you could not tell who was on which side at any given time, and the battle quickly sank into chaos.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Alucard swooped down on Seras and carried her bridal-style to Integra.

"And what, may I ask," Integra said, with barely contained patience, "are you doing with Seras Victoria?"

"I have captured her fair and square, my master," Alucard said, "that means she is now on our side."

"No, it does not, you blithering idiot!" Integra cried, "She is still the enemy, so you must let her go now!"

"As you wish, my master," and Alucard dumped Seras on the ground without another thought.

Seras Victoria, for her part, was so angry and insulted that Alucard did not consider her enough of an enemy to kill her that she suddenly screamed, "We're leaving!" and darted through the trees without looking back and the natives followed her.

The extraordinary upshot of this adventure was—but we have not decided yet that this is the adventure we are to narrate. Perhaps a better one would be the night attack by the natives on the house under the ground, led by Seras Victoria, who wanted to get revenge on Alucard for humiliating her in battle, when several of them got stuck in the hollow trees and had to be pulled out like corks, much to Seras' chagrin. Or we might tell how Alucard saved Seras' life in the Mermaids' Lagoon, and so made her his ally.

Or we could tell of the cake the pirates cooked so that the boys might eat it and perish; and how they placed it in one cunning spot after another; but always Integra snatched it from the hands of her greedy servants, so that in time it lost its succulence, and became as hard as a stone, and was used as a missile, and Anderson fell over it in the dark.

Or suppose we tell of the birds that were Alucard's friends, particularly of the Never bird that built in a tree overhanging the lagoon, and how the nest fell into the water, and still the bird sat on her eggs, and Alucard gave orders that she was not to be disturbed. That is a pretty story, and the end shows how grateful a bird can be; but if we tell it we must also tell the whole adventure of the lagoon, which would of course be telling two adventures rather than just one.

A shorter adventure, and quite as exciting, was Rip Van Winkle's attempt, with the help of some street fairies, to have the sleeping Integra conveyed on a great floating leaf to the mainland. It was really very clever the way she did it, by promising the leader to betray his gang by handing the leaf to her, and when the job was done she told him quite cheerfully, "Your new orders are to provide nutrients to the fish in the surrounding sea." When the rather stupid fairy became quite confused, she said with sadistic viciousness, "Oh, perhaps I should use words that even your stupid little brain can understand. The job is done, so now you can just die, you dirty limey!"

And with that she shot into the air like a magic blue bullet and pelted the fairies at such a speed that they instantly perished; and when her own fairy companions boarded the leaf some time later, she was cheerfully painting on it. "Oh! You're here. I ran out of paint half way through, but I managed." She overlooked her work with pride; a giant red swastika on a giant leaf. "It doesn't really feel like 'our' leaf without it."

Not long after they put their plan into motion, and Rip van Winkle made a diversion for Alucard by pelting sea birds that flew by, so that he would come to tell her to stop, while her fairy companions snuck Integra on the leaf and sent it floating towards the mainland. Fortunately the leaf gave way and Integra woke, thinking it was bath-time, and swam back.

Or again, we might choose Alucard's defiance of the vampires, when he drew a circle round him on the ground with an arrow and dared them to cross it; and though he waited for hours for the sun to rise, with the other boys and Integra looking on breathlessly from trees, not one of them dared to accept his challenge.

Which of these adventures shall we choose? The best way will be to toss for it.

I have tossed, and the lagoon has won. This almost makes one wish that the gorge or the cake or Rip's leaf had won. Of course I could do it again, and make it best out of three; however, perhaps fairest to stick to the lagoon.

* * *

* Though I despise racial slurs as a general rule, this takes place long before political correctness applied to minorities. White children living in well-to-do Edwardian England probably did refer to Native Americans as injuns, redskins, and what have you. Historical accuracy trumps political correctness in this case, though it does not in any way reflect my personal feelings, so please do not think too poorly of me.

** Same. The really awful word-play was too tempting to pass up, especially since the natives were originally called the Picaninny Tribe in J.M. Barrie's original novel.


	7. The Mermaid's Lagoon

Author's Notes: Two updates in a month, must be a new record.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan, or the Mermaid's Lagoon.

* * *

If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire. But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon. This is the nearest you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly moment; if there could be two moments you might see the surf and hear the mermaids singing.

The children often spent long summer days on this lagoon, swimming or floating most of the time, playing the mermaid games in the water, and so forth. You must not think from this that the mermaids were on friendly terms with them: on the contrary, it was among Alucard's lasting regrets that all the time Integra was on the island she never had a civil word from one of them.

This did not bother Integra so much, as she had little interest in befriending mermaids, but she did find them rather fascinating.

She was often at the lagoon on sunny days after rain, when the mermaids came up in extraordinary numbers to play with their bubbles. The bubbles of many colours made in rainbow water they treat as balls, hitting them gaily from one to another with their tails, and trying to keep them in the rainbow till they burst. The goals are at each end of the rainbow, and the keepers only are allowed to use their hands. Sometimes a dozen of these games will be going on in the lagoon at a time, and it is quite a pretty sight.

But the moment the children tried to join in they had to play by themselves, for the mermaids immediately disappeared. Nevertheless we have proof that they secretly watched the interlopers, and were not above taking an idea from them; for Integra introduced a new way of hitting the bubble, with the head instead of the hand, and the mermaids adopted it. This is but one of the many marks that Integra has left on the Neverland.

It must also have been rather pretty to see the children resting on the rock half an hour after their mid-day meal. Integra insisted on their doing this, and it had to be a long rest even though the meal was very brief. So they lay there in the sun, and their bodies glistened in it, while she sat beside them and looked important.

It was one such day, and they were all in the lagoon, when Alucard stole behind Integra and suggested that she go see the mermaids.

"Alucard," Integra sighed with exasperation, "What makes you think I have any interest in meeting mermaids?"

"I suppose," Alucard answered, "That most girls like mermaids, and I thought you might too. Also, it is because Arthur loved spending time with the mermaids in the lagoon, and I thought you might like them as well."

"Arthur?" Integra cried.

What she meant was "Who is Arthur and how did he get close to the mermaids, much less Neverland? And if it is the same Arthur that I think it is, then you have some explaining to do!" But Alucard thought she meant "There was a lad named Arthur here?" and so he only answered, "Yes, now come on Integra, come and meet the mermaids."

Integra sighed. She would have to face them sooner or later, if just to get Alucard to stop asking. She had a lot of bills to pay. "If you insist."

"All right! Come on!" And with that, Alucard flew to the mermaids while playing his pipes to alert them of his presence.

When she stole softly to the edge of the lagoon she saw them by the score, especially on Marooners' Rock, where they loved to bask, combing out their hair in a lazy way that quite irritated her; but their lethargy dissipated when they heard Alucard approaching, as does most of the Neverland, and they clamoured to greet him, simpering and calling out to him as they did.

"Hello girls," Alucard cried when he arrived, sitting at Marooner's Rock like a king on his throne.

Integra sighed, he really could be so thoughtless at times, and she began manerving toward the rock, determined to get this over with.

"Why did you stay away so long?" they said one after the other, "Did you miss me? Tell us one of your adventures! Something exiting!"

"Would you like to hear about the time I cut off Anderson's arms, and fed them to the crocodile?"

"Oh I've always loved that one!" one of the mermaids said a little too enthusiastically. "Me too!"

"Well, here I was on Marooner's Rock, and I saw the pirates approaching. There must have been ten-no, twenty!-and they wanted me to convert to Catholicism, since that is just like Catholics to want to convert children, but I couldn't have that, so I took out my sword and. . ."

It was at this point that Integra got as close to the rock as she could without getting into the water, since she was in uniform, and got fed up with being ignored and called "Alucard!" sharply. All thoughts of pirates disappeared when Alucard heard Integra's voice, and for a time it seemed his own greatness escaped him as he brought her over and introduced her so grandly that he seemed to want to show off his master's greatness instead.

"This is my master," he said with much impressment, "Sir Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing."

But the mermaids were horrified and disgusted, and all they could exclaim was "A girl! What's she doing here? And in her night dress too!"

"At least I'm wearing a dress," Integra retorted sharply, "Even if you cannot tell what kind it is, since this is clearly a uniform!"

Alucard laughed, and the mermaids glared hate. If Integra had kept quite, the mermaids would have simply dived underwater and left her and Alucard deserted in the lagoon, which would have turned out better for everyone. But since the mermaids did not like anyone speaking rudely to them-especially a human girl-they found that such an atrocity simply could not go unpunished.

"Oh! A uniform," they said cattily, "How very important!"

"Alucard! Your master seems very much burned by the sun!"

"She should come in the water to cool off with the rest of us!"

Here they swam to Integra and reached for her in such a way that she felt almost threatening and she pulled away instinctively.

"Come in deary; join us for a swim!"

Integra declined as firmly yet politely as she could, feeling in her heart that allowing them to grab her might inevitably lead to them dragging her down, but Alucard was there in an instant and pulled her out of harm's reach. Perhaps this should have been a hint to the mermaids that Alucard did not approve of harm directed at his master, but they chose to ignore Alucard and continued to harass Integra anyway.

"Ha! The master doesn't want to swim with us common folk."

"Oh I see! Too good for us, eh?"

And here they dived, splashing her with their tails, not by accident, but intentionally.

It was at this point that Alucard lost patience with their antics and actually raised a knife to them, which caused the mermaids to start and back away without splashing. "You dare try to come near my master again and I'll-"

Much to everyone's surprise, it was Integra who took the knife from his hand and vouched for the mermaids. "Alucard! Alucard," she cried, "There is no need for violence! They were just trying to invite me for a swim, weren't you girls?"

The truth was she did not want a diplomatic dispute with the mermaids, since she and the lost boys came to play in the lagoon all the time and she did not wish for the mermaids to try to get even when Alucard was not around, and so she was trying to breech the gap now.

The mermaids seemed pacified by her question, and answered honestly, if nonchalantly, as though Alucard had asked it. "That's all. . . We were only trying to drown her!"

Integra's nose twitched, but she turned to Alucard and said cheerfully, "You see!"

"But if you think for one minute," Alucard continued angrily, "that I'm going put up with. . ."

At that moment something caught Integra's attention, and she clapped her hands over Alucard's mouth. "Sh! Listen!" she whispered.

While she spoke a change came to the lagoon. Little shivers ran over it, and the sun went away and shadows stole across the water, turning it cold. Integra could no longer see Alucard, and when she looked up, the lagoon that had always hitherto been such a laughing place seemed formidable and unfriendly.

It was not, she knew, that night had come, but something as dark as night had come. No, worse than that. It had not come, but it had sent that shiver through the sea to say that it was coming. What was it?

Alucard flew to the next rock to see what it was, and turned back to inform the girls.

"Yup," he whispered, "It's pirates all right."

No sooner did he utter the word did the mermaids exclaim "Pirates! Pirates! Pirates!" in terror and dive in that girly way that Integra despised, and Alucard exclaimed "Quick, Integra!" took her by the hand and guided her back to the rock where the lost boys lay napping, now woken from the mermaids' splashing.

They huddled closer to their masters; especially to Alucard, who had more experience in such matters. A strange smile was playing about his face, and Integra saw it and shuddered. While that smile was on his face no one dared address him; all they could do was to stand ready to obey. The order came sharp and incisive.

"Dive!"

There was a gleam of legs, and instantly the lagoon seemed deserted; no mermaids _or_ lost boys, though they had each been there previously. Marooners' Rock stood alone in the forbidding waters as if it were itself marooned.

The boat drew nearer. It was the pirate dinghy, with four figures in her, Yumie and Heinkel as rowers, Anderson standing tall and proud at the bow, and the third a captive, no other than Seras Victoria. Her hands and ankles were tied.

"You know what's to be your fate," came the voice of berserker Yumie, "don't you, you filthy little savage?"

"You shall be left on the rock to perish," the voice of Heinkel chimed a little more pleasantly, "vhen the tide comes up to co'er it under vater."

"That is an end to one of your race more terrible than death by fire or torture, isn't it?" the voice of Yumie continued nastily.

"Ay," came the black voice of Anderson. The fatherly tone was gone now, replaced by pure malice and hatred. "Fer is it not written in the book of the tribe that there is no path through water to the grand palace of Valhalla?"

"As if!" Yumie spat. She could be vicious when she wanted to be. "There is no Valhalla after death, only Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. The only way to get into Heaven is to love the Lord Jesus Christ, and accept him absolutely as your savior, and follow the laws of Catholicism to the letter!"

"Since you have not done this," Heinkel said gloatingly, "And instead chose to live the life of a var-mongering savage, you shall only go to Hell."

"Ay," Anderson said, "And we shall send you there personally. If ye do not love the Lord Jesus Christ, ye shall be plunged into eternal damnation. Amen."

They taunted her thus, yet Seras' face was uncharacteristically impassive. She was a warrior, and she would die as a warrior dies; it is enough.

"Bet you wish we had not caught you boarding the _Iscariot_ with a knife in your mouth now, don't you?" Yumie taunted.

"Ja," Heinkel said, "You could haf gone vhile you still had the chance, but neeeein! Instead _you_ chose to attack Father Anderson!"

And Seras was sure she would have gotten away with it too, since no watch was kept on the ship, it being Anderson's boast that the Saint of his name guarded the ship for a mile around. Now her fate would help to guard it also. One more wail would go the round in that wind by night.

In the gloom that they brought with them the three pirates did not see the rock till they crashed into it.

"Here's the rock," cried the voice that was Anderson's, "Noow, then, hoist the redskin on too it and leave her here to drown."

It was the work of several brutal minutes to hoist the stubborn girl on the rock; she was too proud to go down without fighting.

Eventually Anderson had to backhand her with the broadside of one of his bayonets, grab her by the scruff and place her unceremoniously onto the rock as an owner places a stubborn kitten into the bath. Like a kitten Seras hissed, reared back and bit Anderson's hand in revenge, and was backhanded again for her efforts.

"Fell beast!" Anderson hissed, "I was ginna lend ye one last chance ta repent and (possibly) be saved, but now ye can use the water to damn your soul instead o' purifying it, fer ye are not worth saving!"

"Amen!" Yumie and Heinkel chimed in chorus.

Quite near the rock, but out of sight, two heads were bobbing up and down, Alucard's and Integra's. Integra was crying, for it was the first tragedy she had seen. Alucard had seen many tragedies, but he had forgotten them all. He was less sorry than Integra for Seras Victoria: it was three against one that angered him, and he meant to save her. An easy way would have been to wait until the pirates had gone, but he was never one to choose the easy way.

There was almost nothing he could not do, and he now imitated the voice of Enrico Maxwell, the pirate we saw Anderson murder at the beginning of our arrival to the Neverland, and he used it thus to separate them.

"What's this you're doing here?" he called. It was a marvelous imitation. "Killing a redskin without the proper authorization? You know you are to come to _me_ before you execute a savage; I am the Archiepiscopus Enrico Maxwell, and I demand that you respect my authority!"

"Maxwell?" Heinkel cried, "Archbishop Enrico Maxwell?"

"How can it be," cried the cowardly voice of timid Yumiko, "He has been dead for many moons!"

"He must be out in the vater somevhere," Heinkel said, when they had looked for him in vain.

"Anderson," the voice called from the dark, "I demand you come out and explain to me why you have carried out this execution without my approval!"

Alucard signed to Integra to hand him her conch shell, which she always brought with her to the lagoon, and threw it some distance away where it made a great splash.

"That vas Enrico Maxwell!" Heinkel cried.

"Oh! What do we do? What do we do?" cried poor Yumiko.

"Ye two stay here," Anderson said, stepping out of the boat, "And guard the redskin. I'm goin to see what this is about."

There was a monstrous "SPLASH!" where Anderson leapt into the water, and Integra clutched the side of the rock as the ice-cold ripples rushed over her shoulders like the touch of death. She was secretly praying she would have to meet such an awful man like Anderson face to face in mortal combat.

Alucard had no such qualms, and the only thing that prevented him from chasing after the deranged priest was the sudden remembrance that he would have to free Seras Victoria before he could do so. He waited until Anderson was well out of earshot before he began again.

"Are ye still out there, my children?" he called with Anderson's voice.

"Father!" said the priests, staring at each other in surprise.

"We are guarding the redskin on the rock," Yumie called out.

"Ay, now set her free," came the astonishing answer.

"Free!"

"Ay, the lass has repented. Noow cut her bonds and let her go."

"But, Father-"

"At once, d'ye hear," cried Alucard, "or I'll leave ye to drown with her."

"This is queer!" Yumiko gasped.

"Better do what the captain orders," said Heinkel nervously.

"Ay, ay." Yumiko said, and she cut Seras Victoria's cords. At once like an eel she slid between Heinkel's legs into the water.

Of course Integra was very elated over Alucard's cleverness; but she knew that he would be elated also and very likely crow and thus betray himself, so at once her hand went out to cover his mouth. But it was stayed even in the act, for "Boat ahoy!" rang over the lagoon in Anderson's voice, and this time it was not Alucard who had spoken.

Alucard may have been about to crow, but his face puckered in a whistle of surprise instead.

"Boat ahoy!" again came the voice.

Now Integra understood. The real Anderson was swimming back.

He was approaching swiftly, and as his men showed a light to guide him he had soon reached them. In the light of the lantern Integra saw his large gloved hands grip the boat's side; she saw his evil swarthy face as he rose dripping from the water, and, quaking, she would have liked to swim away, but Alucard would not budge. He was tingling with life and also top-heavy with conceit. "Am I not a wonder, oh, I am a wonder!" he whispered to her, and though she thought so also, she was rather annoyed at his arrogence.

He signed to her to listen.

The two pirates were very curious to know what their Father found in the lagoon.

"Father, is all well?" they asked timidly, but he answered with a hollow grunt.

"Did you find Archbishop Maxwell, Father?" Heinkel asked, "Or something like him?"

"Nay," Anderson said, heavily, "T'was but a trick in the wind, but Ah've foond something far moore sinister."

Far moore sinister? Yumie and Heinkel looked at each other in amazement. What could it possibly be?

But Anderson was quiet for a long time, seething and pondering heavily, and they were too frightened to ask.

"The game's up," he said at last, "those boys have found a master."

Affrighted though she was, Integra swelled with pride.

"Scheisse!" cried Heinkel.

"How is that a problem?" asked the ignorant Yumiko.

Integra was so shocked that she exclaimed. "She doesn't know!"

Alucard pulled her beneath the water, for Anderson had started up, crying, "What was that?"

"I heard nothing," said Heinkel, raising the lantern over the waters, and as the pirates looked they saw a strange sight. It was the nest I have told you of, floating on the lagoon, and the Never bird was sitting on it, trying to keep her wandering babies from falling out and into the water.

"See," said Anderson in answer to Yumie's question, "tha is a master. What a lesson! The nest must have fallen into the water, but would the master desert her subjects? Noo. The subjects seem tae want to get out from under their master's hold, but does she allow them to simply walk into danger? No. She directs them, makes sure they stay efficient and organized, just as Alucard's master is making the lost boys organized. I haven't seen them this competent in years!"

"Not since their last master," Heinkel agreed, "Nigh fifty years ago."

"Ay," foolish Yumiko agreed, "But he became more interested in mermaids than fighting."

"Aye, t'was part of the reason he left the Neverland in the first place, so great was his love of women."

Yumko, much impressed, gazed at the bird as the nest was borne past, but the more suspicious Heinkel said, "If she is a master, perhaps she is hanging about here to help Alucard."

Anderson winced. "Ay," he said, "that is the fear that haunts me."

He was roused from this dejection by Yumie's eager voice.

"Father," said vicious Yumie, "could we not kidnap these boys' master and make her pay for her crimes?"

"It is a princely scheme," cried Anderson, and at once it took practical shape in his great brain. "We will seize the children and carry them to the boat: the boys we will make walk the plank, since they are beyond saving, and Integra shall convert and become one of us."

Again Integra forgot herself.

"Never!" she cried, and bobbed.

"What was that?"

But they could see nothing. They thought it must have been a leaf in the wind. "Do you agree, my children?" asked Anderson.

"There is my hand on it," they both said.

"And there is my bayonet. Swear."

They all swore. By this time they were on the rock, and suddenly Anderson remembered Seras Victoria.

"Where is the redskin?" he demanded abruptly.

He had a playful humour at moments, and they thought this was one of the moments.

"That is all right, captain," Yumko answered complacently; "we let her go."

"Let her go!" cried Anderson.

"'Twas your own orders," the bo'sun faltered.

"You called over the water to us to let her go," said Heinkel.

"In the name of all that is righteous and holy," thundered Anderson, "what cozening is going on here?" His eyes had gone white with rage, but he saw that they believed their words, and he was startled. "Lassies," he said, shaking a little, "I gave nae such order."

"It is passing queer," Yumie said, and they all fidgeted uncomfortably. Anderson raised his voice, but there was a quiver in it.

"Whatever it is that haunts this dark lagoon to-night," he cried, "show yourself!"

Of course Alucard should have kept quiet, but of course he did not. He immediately answered in Anderson's voice:

"In the name of all that is righteous and holy, I hear you."

In that supreme moment Anderson did not blanch, even at the gills, but Yumie and Heinkel clung to each other in terror.

"Who are ye, stranger? Speak!" Anderson demanded.

"I am Father Alexander Anderson," replied the voice, "Leader o the_ Iscariot_."

"You are not; you are not," Anderson cried darkly.

"In the name of the Lord," the voice retorted, "If ye do not love the Lord Jesus Christ, ye shall be plunged into eternal damnation. Amen."

Anderson tried a more ingratiating manner. "If you are Anderson," he said skeptically, "come tell me, who am I?"

"A codfish," replied the voice, "only a codfish."

"A codfish!" Anderson echoed furiously, but his men could not help but snicker.

"Have we been led all this time by a codfish!" they giggled. "It is lowering to our pride."

In his dark nature there was sometimes gave him intuitions. Suddenly he tried the guessing game.

"Anderson," he called, "have you another voice?"

Now Alucard could never resist a game, and he answered blithely in his own voice, "I have."

"And another name?"

"Ay, ay."

"Vegetable?" asked Anderson.

"No."

"Mineral?"

"No."

"Animal?"

"Yes."

"Man?"

"No!" This answer rang out scornfully.

"Boy?"

"Yes."

"Ordinary boy?"

"No!"

"Wonderful boy?"

To Integra's pain the answer that rang out this time was "Yes."

"Are you in England?"

"No."

"Are you here?"

"Yes."

Anderson was getting close. If he could just keep the boy talking for a little longer, then . . . But he couldn't think of anymore questions to keep the game going. "You ask him some questions," he said to the others, sneaking away silently.

Yumie reflected. "I can't think of a thing," she said regretfully.

"Can't guess, can't guess!" crowed Alucard. "Do you give it up?"

Of course in his pride he was carrying the game too far, and the miscreants saw their chance.

"Yes, yes," they answered eagerly.

"Well, then," he cried, "I am Alucard."

Alucard!

"You fool!" Integra cried, and pulled him under water angrily.

It was a good thing she did, for the next instant Anderson plunged his bayonets into the water, right where Alucard's head had been, and missed him and his master currently by inches. Integra let out a shrill scream and paddled back.

"Now we have him!" Anderson shouted. "Into the water, Yumie. Heinkel, mind the boat. Take him dead or alive!"

He leaped as he spoke, and simultaneously came the gay voice of Alucard.

"Are you ready, boys?"

"Ay, ay," from various parts of the lagoon.

"Then lam into the pirates."

The fight was short and sharp. First to draw blood was Pip, who gallantly climbed into the boat and held Heinkel. There was fierce struggle, in which the cutlass was torn from the pirate's grasp. She wriggled overboard and Pip leapt after her. The dinghy drifted away.

Here and there a head bobbed up in the water, and there was a flash of steel followed by a cry or a whoop. In the confusion some struck at their own side. The katana of Yumie got Walter in the fourth rib, but he was himself pinked in turn by Jan. Farther from the rock Heinkel was pressing Luke and the twins hard.

Where all this time was Alucard? He was seeking bigger game.

The others were all brave boys, and they must not be blamed for backing from the pirate captain. His iron bayonets made a circle of dead water round him, from which they fled like affrighted fishes.

But there was one who did not fear him: there was one prepared to enter that circle.

Strangely, it was not in the water that they met. Anderson rose to the rock to breathe, and at the same moment Alucard scaled it on the opposite side. The rock was slippery as a ball, and they had to crawl rather than climb. Neither knew that the other was coming. Each feeling for a grip met the other's arm: in surprise they raised their heads; their faces were almost touching; so they met.

Some of the greatest heroes have confessed that just before they fell to they had a sinking. Had it been so with Alucard at that moment I would admit it. After all, Anderson was the only man that the Pope had feared. But Alucard had no sinking, he had one feeling only, gladness; and he gnashed his pretty teeth with joy. Quick as thought he snatched a bayonet from Anderson's belt and was about to drive it home, when he saw that he was higher up the rock that his foe. He gave the priest a hand to help him up.

It was then that a terrible rage took him, and Anderson bit him.

Not the pain of this but its unfairness was what dazed Alucard. It made him quite helpless. He could only stare, horrified. Every child is affected thus the first time he is treated unfairly. All he thinks he has a right to when he comes to you to be yours is fairness. After you have been unfair to him he will love you again, but will never afterwards be quite the same boy. No one ever gets over the first unfairness; no one except Alucard. He often met it, but he always forgot it. I suppose that was the real difference between him and all the rest.

So when he met it now it was like the first time; and he could just stare, helpless. Thrice the iron bayonet stabbed him.

A few moments afterwards the other boys saw Yumie and Heinkel in the water striking wildly for the ship; no elation on the pestilent face now, only white fear, for the crocodile was in dogged pursuit of them. Anderson, too, saw their plight and heard their cries, and with a great snarl of rage he chased after them, determined to catch the crocodile before it reached his mates.

On ordinary occasions the boys would have swum alongside cheering; but now they were uneasy, for they had lost both Alucard and Integra, and were scouring the lagoon for them, calling them by name. They found the dinghy and went home in it, shouting "Alucard! Integra!" as they went, but no answer came save mocking laughter from the mermaids.

"They must be swimming back or flying," the boys concluded. They were not very anxious, because they had such faith in Alucard and Integra.

When their voices died away there came cold silence over the lagoon, and then a feeble cry.

"Help, help!"

Two small figures were beating against the rock; the girl had been knocked unconscious and lay on the boy's arm. With a last effort Alucard pulled her up the rock and then lay down beside her. Even as he also fainted he saw that the water was rising. He knew that they would soon be drowned, but he could do no more.

As they lay side by side a mermaid caught Integra by the feet, and began pulling her softly into the water. Alucard, feeling her slip from him, woke with a start, and was just in time to draw her back. But he had to tell her the truth.

"We are on the rock, Integra," he said, "but it is growing smaller. Soon the water will be over it."

She did not understand even now.

"We must go," she said briskly.

"Yes," he answered faintly.

"Shall we swim or fly, Alucard?"

He had to tell her.

"Do you think you could swim or fly as far as the island, Integra, without my help?"

"Of course I can, if you'll just let me—" but she cried out in pain when she tried to move. Alucard steadied her, but Integra gritted her teeth and only sank to her knees when she tried to stand. She had to admit through baited breath that she was too injured.

He moaned.

"What is it?" she asked, anxious at once.

"I can't help you, Integra. Anderson wounded me. I can neither fly nor swim."

"Do you mean we shall both be drowned?"

"Look how the water is rising."

They put their hands over their eyes to shut out the sight. They thought they would soon be no more. As they sat thus something brushed against Alucard as light as a kiss, and stayed there, as if saying timidly, "Can I be of any use?"

It was the tail of a kite, which Luke had made some days before. It had torn itself out of his hand and floated away.

"Luke's kite," Alucard said without interest, but next moment he had seized the tail, and was pulling the kite toward him.

"It lifted Luke off the ground," he cried; "why should it not carry you?"

"Both of us!"

"It can't lift two; Luke and Jan tried."

Over a cliff, no less. Integra had her hands full for days after.

"Let us draw lots," she said bravely.

"And you a lady? Never," Already he had tied the tail round her. She clung to him; she refused to go without him; but with a "Good-bye, Master," he pushed her from the rock; and in a few minutes she was borne out of his sight. Alucard was alone on the lagoon.

The rock was very small now; soon it would be submerged. Pale rays of light tiptoed across the waters; and by and by there was to be heard a sound at once the most musical and the most melancholy in the world: the mermaids calling to the moon.

Alucard was not quite like other boys; but he was afraid at last. A tremour ran through him, like a shudder passing over the sea; but on the sea one shudder follows another till there are hundreds of them, and Alucard felt just the one. Next moment he was standing erect on the rock again, with that smile on his face and a drum beating within him. It was saying, "To die will be an awfully big adventure."


	8. The Never Bird

Author's Notes: A rather short throw-away chapter compaired to the longer, more significant previous one, but it is relevant to the plot and rather funny. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan, or a Never bird with a floating nest (I would have such great adventures if I did).

* * *

The last sound Alucard heard before he was quite alone were the mermaids retiring one by one to their bedchambers under the sea. He was too far away to hear their doors shut; but every door in the coral caves where they live rings a tiny bell when it opens or closes (as in all the nicest houses on the mainland), and he heard the bells. They might have stayed to help him before they retired, but because he had been rude to them in favour of Integra earlier that day, they were no longer inclined to do him any favours. A pity.

Steadily the waters rose till they were nibbling at his feet; and to pass the time until they made their final gulp, he watched the only thing on the lagoon. He thought it was a piece of floating paper, perhaps part of the kite, and wondered idly how long it would take to drift ashore.

Presently he noticed as an odd thing that it was undoubtedly out upon the lagoon with some definite purpose, for it was fighting the tide, and sometimes winning; and when it won, Alucard, who always delighted in the determination and triumphs of the weaker side in face of over-whelming odds, could not help clapping; it was such a gallant piece of paper.

It was not really a piece of paper; it was the Never bird, making desperate efforts to reach Alucard on the nest. By working her wings, in a way she had learned since the nest fell into the water, she was able to some extent to guide her strange craft, but by the time Alucard recognised her she was very exhausted. She had come to save him, to give him her nest, though her youngsters were in it, and it was quite a risk to share them with him. I rather wonder at the bird, for though he had been nice to her, he had also sometimes tormented her. I can suppose only that, like Integra and the rest of them, she was melted because he had all his first teeth.

"Alucard! I've come to help you!" the bird cried.

"What are you doing here?" he called in response.

Of course neither of them understood the other's language. In fanciful stories people can talk to the birds freely, and I wish for the moment I could pretend that this were such a story, and say that Alucard replied intelligently to the Never bird; but truth is best, and I want to tell you only what really happened. Well, not only could they not understand each other, but they forgot their manners.

"I—want—you—to—get—into—the—nest," the bird called, speaking as slowly and distinctly as possible, "and—then—you—can—drift—ashore, but—I—am—too—tired—to—bring—it—any—nearer—so—you—must—try—to—swim—to—it."

"What are you quacking about?" Alucard answered. "Why don't you let the nest drift as usual?"

"I—want—you—" the bird said, and repeated it all over.

Then Alucard tried slow and distinct.

"What—are—you—quacking—about?" and so on.

The Never bird became irritated; they have very short tempers.

"You dunderheaded little jay," she screamed, "Why don't you do as I tell you?"

Alucard felt that she was calling him names, and at a venture he retorted hotly:

"So are you!"

Then rather curiously they both snapped out the same remark:

"Shut up!"

"Shut up!"

It was at this moment that Seras Victoria emerged from the water, only to find Alucard and the Never bird bickering like old ladies.

She had been half-way back to shore when she found that her conscience made swimming rather difficult, and each arm stroke felt heavier and heavier until she could no longer move; and she floated there paralyzed in that water, feeling much tormented, until she finally turned back and found that she could swim with such ease! It was almost like flying in the water.

She encountered a few mermaids on the way, before they had retired for the night. The most haunting time to see them is at the turn of the moon, when they utter strange wailing cries; but the lagoon is dangerous for mortals then, as Seras Victoria learned the hard way when they grabbed her ankles and drag her down, as they had attempted to do to Integra earlier that evening. But after plunging her knife it into their hands they let go and she was able to reach Alucard unmolested.

"Is there a problem here?" she asked uncertainly.

"What are you doing here?" Alucard asked.

"To save you, of course," Seras Victoria said. "What is she doing here?"

"I don't know," Alucard said, "I can't tell what she's quacking about."

"Let me try," and Seras Victoria, who was fluent in Never speak, asked the Never bird as politely as any Millennium babe can, "What are you doing here?"

"To save Alucard, of couse," was the answer.

"She's here to save you," Seras informed Alucard.

"Well, how does she intend to do that?"

"How do you intend to do that?"

The Never bird was tired of talking; nevertheless she was determined to finish what she started, and by one last mighty effort she propelled the nest against the rock. Then up she flew; deserting her youngsters, so as to make her meaning clear.

Then at last he understood, and clutched the nest and waved his thanks to the bird as she fluttered overhead. It was not to receive his thanks, however, that she hung there in the sky; it was not even to watch him get into the nest; it was to see what he did with her youngsters.

There were two large white chicks, and Alucard lifted them up and reflected. They were each squeaking, and one of them bit his hand, and Alucard glared at it and seemed about ready to chuck it. The bird covered her face with her wings, so as not to see the last of them; but she could not help peeping between the feathers.

I forget whether I have told you that there was a stave on the rock, driven into it by some buccaneers of long ago to mark the site of buried treasure. The children had discovered the glittering hoard, and when in a mischievous mood used to fling showers of moidores, diamonds, pearls and pieces of eight to the gulls, who pounced upon them for food, and then flew away, raging at the scurvy trick that had been played upon them.

"Seras Victoria," Alucard said, "Look for the stave on the side of the rock; Gentleman Heinkel hung her hat there, and it might be of use."

Seras Victoria maneuvered around the other side of the rock. The stave was still there, and on it Heinkel had hung her hat, a deep tarpaulin, watertight, with a broad brim.

"I found it," she said, snatching it up.

"Bring it here," and she did.

Alucard put the chicks into this hat and set it on the lagoon. It floated beautifully.

The Never bird saw at once what he was up to, and screamed her admiration of him; and, alas, Alucard crowed his agreement with her. Then he got into the nest, and Seras Victoria clutched the side and used her feet to paddle like a propeller, since Alucard was too exhausted to do it himself. At the same moment the bird fluttered down upon the hat and once more sat snugly on her babes.

She drifted in one direction, and Alucard was borne off in another, both cheering.

Of course when they landed Alucard beached his barque in a place where the bird would easily find it; but the hat was such a great success that she abandoned the nest. It drifted about till it went to pieces, and often Heinkel came to the shore of the lagoon, and with many bitter feelings watched the bird sitting on her hat. As we shall not see her again, it may be worth mentioning here that all Never birds now build in that shape of nest, with a broad brim on which the youngsters take an airing.

Great were the rejoicings when Alucard reached the Hellsing Organization almost as soon as Integra, who had been carried hither and thither by the kite. She wept outright, threw her arms around him and kissed him again and again. Every boy had adventures to tell; but perhaps the biggest adventure of all was that Integra was acting very girly. This so inflated them that they did various dodgy things to stay up still longer, such as demanding bandages and kisses; but Integra, though glorying in having them all safe and sound, was scandalised and cried, "To bed! To bed!" in a voice that had to be obeyed. Next day, however, she was awfully tender, and gave out bandages to every one, and they played till bed-time at limping about and carrying their arms in slings.

Seras Victoria did not receive half so charming a welcome when she returned to her tribe. She was beaten by her wet nurse for her failure, lectured by the Witch Doctor for her incompetence, gloated on by Great Big Little Schrodinger's Cat in a way that only annoying younger brothers can do, and even condescendingly congratulated by the Heap Big Chief for her success at returning alive. Once she showed them the severed mermaid's hand, however, she received a hero's welcome, and there was much rejoicing and feasting till dawn.


	9. The Millennium Tribe

Author's Notes: I would recommend listening to "What Made the Red Man Red?" while reading this. Also, "rot" is pronounced "rote."

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan.

* * *

One important result of the brush on the lagoon was that it made the natives their friends. Alucard had saved Seras Victoria from a dreadful fate, and now there was nothing she and her braves would not do for him—well, anything just short of starting a fight. But this was so difficult for the Millennium braves, who were such incorrigible war-mongers that they could not go a day without stabbing something, that they might as well have been Alucard's servants for how much restraint they were showing.

They invited Alucard and his braves to feast with them the night after the ordeal, to celebrate the rescue of Seras Victoria and the resulting union between Millennium and Hellsing.

The Millennium War Tribe was based atop a tall hill, with scores of wigwams and teepees set around a large central fire, around which they often gathered, feasted and danced in times of glory and triumph. The Witch Doctor, who was also the resident shaman, often poured a special powder of his own creation into the fire, so that the smoke came up in colours and shapes that depicted glorious battles long since past; often in association with the grand stories told around the flames. It must truly be a fearsome sight to behold, to see a giant blazing fire in the dead of night with the shadowy silhouettes of mighty warriors dancing around it with weapons in their hands and scalping on their minds, chanting their war cries and flaying their bodies in menacing ways; but we are not on the island, and so we must only use our imaginations to fuel such dreadful sights.

Of course, Alucard, Integra and the lost boys never participated in such ceremonies, on account of being Millennium's mortal enemies; but now that they were allies, they could attend such an occasion. They dressed in animal skins, painted their faces in blood and oil, and hung feathers in their hair to show their willingness to adapt to Millennium's customs, and Millennium prepared a great feast in honour of their arrival.

The Heap Big Chief Montana Max naturally stood at the head of the fire, with the princess Seras Victoria to his right and the brave Great Big Little Schrödinger's Cat to his left, and his warriors all around him. Integra naturally stood at the guest's place of honour, just opposite of him, with Walter to her right and Pip to her left, and her lost boys all around her.

Alucard stood before the Heap Big Chief when the ceremony began, and they saluted each other.

"Guten Tag," the chief said.

"Guten Tag," Alucard replied.

And then the chief began speaking in his native language.

Integra, who was very confused, leaned over and whispered to Pip, "What's the chief doing?"

"'e is delivering ze orations in German."

"German?"

"Oui, zat is ze language of ze Millennium War Tribe. It is ze origin of ze Neverland just as ze main land, don't you know?"

"No," Integra said, ashamed of her ignorance, "I didn't know."

It is said that the Natives of Neverland consist of papooses of many cultures that fall out of their slings and baskets the same way that the Lost Boys fell out of their prams, and together they grow up and build motley culture based on their collective memories of many different tribes from many different regions. Be not offended that the Neverland Natives do not accurately resemble natives of the mainland, for they are not the same and should not be treated as such. The Millennium War Tribe consisted once of many barbarians from Pagan Germanic War Tribes, with those overly proud and warlike Germanic souls and many others from different regions, and so their culture naturally reflected such values.

Still, Integra did not understand the Heap Big Chief any better either, and so she finally asked, "What's he saying?"

"Je suis français!" Pip huffed indignantly, and turned away.

Integra looked questioningly at Walter, but he only shrugged.

Finally, she turned to the Valentine brothers; especially Jan, whose name had a German pronunciation. "What's he saying?"

"He says," Jan translated slowly. "Alucard . . . big fucking warrior . . . saved . . . my little bitch . . . makes . . . Big Chief . . . fucking hard!"

Despite herself, and the awful translation Jan _would_ provide, she had to crack a joke about it.

"Well he certainly doesn't look, f-ing hard," Integra whispered to Pip, and he laughed.

Before Luke could give a proper translation, the Heap Big Chief began speaking in gratuitous English.

"Und now ve shall make ze captain Alucard a Heap Big Chief," Montana Max said grandly; and the Witch Doctor presented a large band of feathers with much pomp and circumstance, and the chief placed them over Alucard's head. He looked rather surprised and pleased with the honour, since he had never received one before, and he looked up at the chief, who said, "You now Mighty Nosferatu."

Alucard crowed with rapture and flew around the village in triumph, while Integra and the lost boys cheered their admiration of him, which of course he shamelessly agreed with; and when it was over he took his place beside the Heap Big Chief, and they all crossed their legs and sat down. Integra and her lost boys followed suit, and they all sat round the fire and feasted to their heart's content.

Once they had all eaten their fill, at least for the time, Seras Victoria pulled out the peace pipe, which admittedly was rarely used by the war-mongering savages, and presented it to the Heap Big Chief, who took a deep drag and exhaled a large smoke swastika.

"Und now ve shall teach zese pale-faced kinder all about rot man," the chief said as Alucard exhaled an arrow through the center of his swastika.

"Good," Walter said as the music began, "this should be most enlightening."

Integra nodded her agreement and sat forward eagerly while her lost boys asked questions.

"Um… What made the rot man rot?" Luke asked.

"When did he first say 'ugh?'" asked the Twins.

"Why does he ask you "Wie?" Pip asked.

The Heap Big Chief was amused. 'Why does he ask you 'Wie?'"

The Millennium braves, who had been pounding the drums of music for a while, chanted the answer in song.

_"Hana Mana Ganda,_

_Why does he ask you "Wie?"_

_Hana Mana Ganda"_

The peace pipe was being passed over to the lost boys by this time. Pip was the first to take a drag, and he liked it so much that we may thank this pipe for being the first taste of his life-long love of inhaling tobacco . . . of any kind. Walter, too, savoured his first drag; but his tastes were much more refined, and forever after he would sneer at any fag that was poorly made or prepared. Integra caught a whiff of the smoke and passed it on without even trying it, closing her eyes and scrunching her nose in disgust; which was rather ironic, considering her eventual love of chain-smoking expensive cigars. Jan took a deep drag and exclaimed, "Fuck me! That's some mighty fine shit!" and Luke, who fully expected to enjoy it like the other boys, took an eager drag, but turned very green and very ill, and passed it over to the twins, who didn't like it much better.

_"Once Millennium didn't know_

_All the things that we know now_

_But Millennium, we sure learn a lot_

_And it's all from asking, "Wie?"_

The Millennium braves then jumped up, cried their war cries, and ran up to the children enthusiastically.

_"Hana Mana Ganda_

_Hana Mana Ganda_

_We translate for you!_

_Hana means what mana means_

_And ganda means that too!"_

Integra felt this strange, since she never heard any of this during her German lessons, but she supposed it was a Millennium dialect, and quickly threw all reason to the wind as she danced around the great fire with the braves and the lost boys; but she stopped when she encountered the wet nurse; and who could blame her? Zorin Blitz truly was a fearsome sight to behold. A butch woman with cropped orange hair, mystic tattoos covering half her face and body, a lazy eye that could create illusions with its malice, and a scythe slung across her back, she truly was a powerful woman to behold. Since it is written in the book of Millennium that the sustenance drawn from powerful women creates powerful children, it is little wonder that this bull of a woman was employed as the wet nurse for the chief's many children; a job she took with pride.

"Fräulein no dance_,"_ the wet nurse said, then pointed sternly, "Fräulein get some fire wood."

Integra was insulted. "I shall do no such thing," she began, but promptly yelped and started back when a giant scythe struck the ground mere inches in front of her face!

"Fräulein no talk back," the evil wet nurse said more sternly, "Fräulein_, get some fire wood."_

And she pointed again to where the fire wood was kept, and she glared at Integra so sternly with her good eye that Integra felt she had no choice, if she didn't want to cause a diplomatic dispute, and she walk away in a huff, determined to get the fire wood quickly so she could rejoin the festivities as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the braves were enjoying the ceremony to their hearts' content, for _they_ did not have to "get some firewood," as the wet nurse called it, and they began to sing about their womenfolk as much as they pleased.

_"When did he first say, 'Ugh!'_

_When did he first say, 'Ugh!'_

_In the Millennium book it say_

_When first brave married Frau_

_He gave out with heap big ugh_

_When he saw his Mother-in-Law!"_

Funny hearing the braves talk, since they are not such great lookers themselves, but regardless they jumped up, cried their war cries, and danced around the fire with renewed vigor, chanting "_hana mana ganda, hana mana gonda_" all the while.

Seras Victoria, for her part, was dancing atop a large drum for Alucard's amusement. She did not set out to do so at the beginning of the ceremony; she had started out dancing like any brave, but Alucard liked watching her so much that she moved atop an elevated surface so he could have a better view. She wore a long deer-skin dress that went down to her wrists and ankles, and hunting boots over her feet, so it was not as if she was showing off very much skin; but she danced and swayed in a way that drew attention to her surprisingly womanly figure. She was far too pretty to cheapen herself in such a way, but Alucard felt it his due, and when she began to slow he demanded that she dance faster.

She turned to him and whispered huskily, "Sir, Yes Sir, My Master!" and continued with renewed vigor. Alucard was very pleased by her performance.

_"What made the rot man rot?"_

Seras Victoria jumped off the drum and began dancing toward Alucard in a very heated way.

_"What made the rot man rot?"_

Integra returned with the fire wood, trying to hum along and have fun despite herself, but she gasped in horror when she saw Seras Victoria stop in front of Alucard.

_"Let's go back a million years_

_To the very first Millennium prince_

_He kissed a maid and start to blush_

_And we've all been blushin' since"_

When Seras leaned down and rubbed her nose against Alucard's in a way that is equivalent of a Millennium babe's kiss, Integra threw the fire wood down and angrily placed her hands on her hips, just as many a spurned house wife has done on seeing her husband acting untoward with another woman; but rather than push her away, like many other husbands before him, Alucard's face grew very red and he crowed loudly.

_"You've got it from the headman_

_The real true story of the rot man_

_No matter what's been written or said_

_Now you know why the rot man rot!"_

Alucard and Seras Victoria danced together around the giant drum, then jumped atop it together and rubbed noses again, this time fully consensual on both sides. Alucard crowed when they finished, the Millennium braves crowed as well, and he and Seras Victoria and the Millennium braves all went dancing around the fire with their weapons and their feathers with wild abandon.

Poor Integra could have tolerated all of this if she did not see her own lost boys dancing among them, as easily as though they had been with the tribe all their lives. Even her normally serious and restrained butler, who hitherto had been more loyal to her than any of the other boys, now lead the charge into Millennium without a second thought, flicking his wires wildly as he danced.

"Walter!" Integra cried with horror.

She felt someone tug her dress, and turned to see Pip.

"Fräulein, take this back home," he ordered, then crowed and rejoined the fray.

Even Pip Bernadotte, who hated Millennium with every fibre of his being, joined them so carelessly!

"Bernadotte!" she cried sternly; then scowled and rolled her eyes when she felt the calloused grey hand on her shoulder.

"Fräulein, get some fire wood!" the wet nurse demanded, and pointed to the pile of wood again.

But Integra had enough of being ordered around; or being a "master" to boys who didn't take her seriously.

"Fräulein _no_ get some fire wood," she said sternly, "Fräulein _go home_!"

And with that, she walked out of the village with her head high and her spirits low, feeling vindicated and sulky.


	10. The Happy Home

Author's Notes: Okay, so the last chapter was a little unnecessary to the plot, but I've been planning it since before I started writing this fic, so I couldn't bring myself to cast it away. (Actually, this chapter could be considered unnecessary too, but it's part of J.M. Barrie's original novel, and I liked the content so much I wanted to share it.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan, that would be dear Kohta Hirano and Great Ormond Street Hospital.

* * *

With everything that happened at the Millennium village, I would like to say that Integra left for home immediately after; that she packed up her things immediately and demanded to be taken straight home; or, at the very least, to the nearest police station so she could report her uncle's crime. I would like to say that she did; and she might have, if it were not for one thing: Alucard.

It began when she made it back to the home underground, sitting on the great bed, and thinking about her place in the Hellsing Organization and the Neverland, about whether or not she was doing any good by being here, and of her home on the mainland and whether it would have a place for her again. She thought these things all night, unable to sleep but also unable to think of a way home, when the lost boys returned to the home underground after a long night of dancing. They chanted and shot down their trees and bounced around the room while Integra ignored them; and then Alucard emerged.

They called him Mighty Nosferatu, prostrating themselves before him; but he liked this tremendously, so that it was not really good for him.

I suppose he expected Integra to grovel in the same way, for he greeted her rather condescendingly and called her "Little Master."

To no one's surprise but Alucard, Integra was little impressed, merely answered "ugh" and turned away.

"Oh Integra," Alucard cried, trying without success to catch her eye, "Is that all you have to say? Everyone else thinks I'm wonderful."

"Yes," Integra said with slight primness, standing up and preparing to leave. "Especially Seras Victoria."

"Seras Victoria?" Alucard was terribly confused.

Eventually Integra lost patience with the dancing, chanting boys in animal skins and red paint, for she suddenly called sternly, "Boys, take off that wardrobe and get ready for bed."

"Bed?" they cried.

"Yes, bed," Integra said. "You have been given your orders, now carry them out; unless you would like to sleep in the redskin camp?"

"No sleep!" they chanted, "Go for days without sleep!"

"But boys, I'm going home in the morning, and I expect you to be wide awake for when I. . ."

"Home?" they cut her off, "Oh Integra, we are already home!"

"You might be," Integra said, "but I'm not. I shall be leaving in the morning, and I expect you to be. . ."

"Oh, Integra," they cried, "We don't want you to go home!"

As if they had a say in the matter!

Integra was about to set them straight when Alucard burst into the room, in all his pomp, and said, in his infinite wisdom, "No go home! Stay many moons! Have heap big time!"

"Now Alucard," Integra said sternly, "Let's stop pretending and be practical."

There was no word that could turn Alucard as cold as "practical," for it was a word that grown ups used, and he said dismissively, "The Almighty Nosferatu has spoken!" and it was so.

"Oh, honestly," Integra whispered, her patience nearly spent.

Integra told him of her intention to leave the Neverland, Alucard did not believe her, for they had such wonderful adventures before together, and were now masters of a new tribe, so why should she want to leave? But when Integra told him of her complaints, they seemed so queer, and he did not understand them, and so he merely made excuses and vague promises that things would get better. It was not until Integra began to pack her things that Alucard realized she was serious.

A terrible fear gripped him.

"Please do not leave Integra," Alucard said, "You are like a mother to us; please don't go."

"All the more reason to leave," Integra said, though she relented a little.

"Please do not leave!" the lost boys groveled and themselves before Integra's feet. "Where shall we go without you?"

"I'm sure you'll manage very well," Integra said, and tried to shake the lost boys as they shamelessly clung and wept on her legs. "After all, you've had Alucard to lead you far longer than I have; what difference will it make once I have left?"

"It will make a difference," they insisted. "The greatest difference in the world!"

"Besides Integra," Alucard cooed, almost in her ear, "have I not told you that one girl is worth more than twenty boys?

"Do not go, Integra," he said in that voice that no woman has yet been able to resist, including Integra. "You are like a mother to them. We have watched over them, and protected them, together. They are like our children."

"You must be daft," Integra said, but she faltered visibly.

She liked the idea of being the children's mother, if Alucard was their father, and eventually she relented. There was much dancing and rejoicing when she decided to stay.

It was difficult for Integra to adjust to being a mother instead of a master, since she had been a master for so many moons, but adjust she did. It was strange to give orders and not have them immediately carried out, and to attempt to give out punishments only to be accused of being unloving, and being told that, in a traditional family, "father knows best." And yet she grew to like it well enough. Not because her obediant servants were suddenly needy children who wanted hugs and kisses instead of orders and war strategies, but because her servant Alucard was acting like a loving father and husband.

They carried out all of their old games as before, the Mighty Nosferatu and the Hellsing Organization and the Grand Mansion, only now Alucard acted as Integra's husband instead of her servant, and they looked after the house and the children together, and things carried on almost as gayly as they had before Integra decided to leave.

We have now reached the evening that was to be known among them as the Night of Nights, because of its adventures and their upshot. The day, as if quietly gathering its forces, had been almost uneventful, and now the natives were patrolling above, while, below, the children were having their evening meal; all except Alucard, who had gone out to get the time. The way you got the time on the island was to find the crocodile, and then stay near him till the clock struck.

The meal happened to be a make-believe tea, and they sat around the board, guzzling in their greed; and really, what with their chatter and recriminations, the noise, as Integra said, was positively deafening. To be sure, she was used to noise, but she simply would not have them grabbing things, and then excusing themselves by saying that Walter had pushed their elbow. There was a fixed rule that they must never hit back at meals, but should refer the matter of dispute to Integra by raising the right arm politely and saying, "I complain of so-and-so;" but what usually happened was that they forgot to do this or did it too much.

"Silence," cried Integra when for the twentieth time she had told them that they were not all to speak at once. "Is your mug empty, Lukey darling?"

"Not quite empty, mummy," Luke said, after looking into an imaginary mug.

"He hasn't even begun to drink his milk," Pip interposed.

This was telling, and Luke seized his chance.

"I complain of Pip," he cried promptly.

Jan, however, had held up his hand first.

"Well, Jan?"

"Can I sit in Alucard's chair, since he ain't here?"

"Sit in father's chair, Jan!" Integra was scandalised. "Certainly not."

"He ain't really our father," Jan answered. "He didn't even know how a father does till I showed him."

This was grumbling. "We complain of Jan," cried the twins.

Walter held up his hand. He was the most civilized of them; indeed he was the only civilized one, that Integra was specially gentle with him.

"What is it, Walter dear?"

"I complain of everyone at this table," he said, rather pointedly, "and all the ridiculous telling that is ruining my meal."

The twins raised their hand, but before they could complain of Walter, he said, "Oh no, don't start that again!"

Luke and Jan raised their hands.

"Oh no you don't," he cried again, "Mother has gone to a lot of trouble of cooking this meal for us and you are ruining it with your ridiculous telling."

The lost boys were silent.

Integra was grateful for Walter's chivalry, and for a while it seemed it really would be relatively quiet at the dinner table.

That is, until one of the twins walked by Walter and he tripped one of his legs from under him.

The hateful telling broke out again.

"Walter kicked the chair from under me!"

"Luke is coughing on the table."

"The twins began with cheese-cakes."

"Jan is taking both butter and honey."

"Lay off! I'll take as much as I want!"

"Pip is speaking with his mouth full."

"I complain of the twins."

"I complain of Luke."

"I complain of Pip."

"Oh dear, oh dear," cried Integra, "I'm sure I sometimes think that spinsters are to be envied."

There was no smile on her face when she said this.

She told them to clear away, and sat down to her work-desk, a heavy load of bills and every one with a red mark on it as usual.

"Integra," remonstrated Jan, "I'm sick of doing the damn sewing."

"I must have somebody do the sewing," she said almost tartly, "I may be the 'mother' around here, but I am still the master, and I refuse to partake in work that is beneath me."

"That ain't how a mother does," Jan grumbled.

"I don't care how a mother does," Integra snapped.

While she worked, they played around her; such a group of happy faces and dancing limbs lit up by that romantic fire. It had become a very familiar scene, this, in the home under the ground, but we are looking on it for the last time.

There was a step above, and Integra, you may be sure, was the first to recognize it.

"Children, I hear your father's step. He likes you to meet him at the door."

Above, the natives sieged heil before Alucard.

"Hunt well, braves. I have spoken."

And then, as so often before, the gay children dragged him from his tree. As so often before, but never again.

He had brought nuts for the boys as well as the correct time for Integra.

"Alucard, you just spoil them, you know," Integra simpered.

"Ah, old lady," said Alucard, hanging up his gun.

"It was me who told him mothers are called old lady," Jan whispered to Walter.

"I complain of Jan" said Walter instantly.

The first twin came to Alucard. "Father, we want to dance."

"Dance away, my little man," said Alucard, who was in high good humour.

"But we want you to dance."

Alucard was really the best dancer among them, but he pretended to be scandalised.

"Me! My old bones would rattle!"

"And mummy too."

"What," cried Integra, "the mother of such an armful, dance!"

"But on a Saturday night," Pip insinuated.

It was not really Saturday night, at least it may have been, for they had long lost count of the days; but always if they wanted to do anything special they said this was Saturday night, and then they did it.

"Of course it is Saturday night, Alucard," Integra said, relenting.

"People of our figure, Integra!"

"But it is only among our own progeny."

"True, true."

So they were told they could dance, but they must put on their nighties first.

"Ah, old lady," Alucard said aside to Integra, warming himself by the fire and looking down at her as she sat turning a heel, "there is nothing more pleasant of an evening for you and me when the day's toil is over than to rest by the fire with the little ones near by."

"It is sweet, Alucard, isn't it?" Integra said, frightfully gratified. "Alucard, I think Walter has your nose."

"I have no such thing," Walter said from across the room, but they ignored him.

"Jan takes after you."

She went to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Dear Alucard," she said, "with such a large family, of course, I have now passed my best, but you don't want to change me, do you?"

"No, Integra."

Certainly he did not want a change, and if only dear Integra knew how much he adored her, and wanted to keep her as she was forever, she would certainly never have doubted his sincerity.

But he still looked at her uncomfortably, blinking, you know, like one not sure whether he was awake or asleep.

"Alucard, what is it?"

"I was just thinking," he said, a little scared. "It is only make-believe, isn't it, that I am their father?"

"Oh yes," Integra said primly.

"You see," he continued apologetically, "it would make me seem so old to be their real father."

"But they are ours, Alucard, yours and mine."

"But not really, Integra?" he asked anxiously.

"Not if you don't wish it," she replied; and she distinctly heard his sigh of relief.

"Alucard," she asked, trying to speak firmly, "what are your exact feelings for me?"

"Those of a devoted servant, my master."

"I thought so," she said, and went and sat by herself at the extreme end of the room.

"You are so queer," he said, frankly puzzled, "and Seras Victoria is just the same. There is something she wants to be to me, but she says it is not my master."

"No, indeed, it is not," Integra replied with frightful emphasis. Now we know why she was prejudiced against the natives.

"Then what is it?"

"It isn't for a lady to tell."

"Oh, very well," Alucard said, a little nettled. "Perhaps Rip Van Winkle will tell me."

"Oh yes, Rip Van Winkle will tell you," Integra retorted scornfully. "She is an abandoned little creature."

Here Rip, who was in her bedroom, eavesdropping, squeaked out something impudent.

"She says she glories in being abandoned," Alucard interpreted.

"Well of course she does," Integra said contemptuous. "The alternative would have been death or banishment!"

"Indeed, I would have missed her then." He had a sudden idea. "Perhaps Rip wants to be my master?"

"You silly ass!" cried Rip Van Winkle in a passion.

She had said it so often that Integra needed no translation.

"I almost agree with her," Integra snapped. Fancy Integra snapping! But she had been much tried, and she little knew what was to happen before the night was out. If she had known she would not have snapped.

None of them knew. Perhaps it was best not to know. Their ignorance gave them one more glad hour; and as it was to be their last hour on the island, let us rejoice that there were sixty glad minutes in it. They sang and danced in their night-gowns. Such a deliciously creepy song it was, in which they pretended to be frightened at their own shadows, little witting that so soon shadows would close in upon them, from whom they would shrink in real fear. So uproariously gay was the dance, and how they buffeted each other on the bed and out of it! It was a pillow fight rather than a dance, and when it was finished, the pillows insisted on one bout more, like partners who know that they may never meet again. The stories they told, before it was time for Integra's good-night story! Even Luke tried to tell a story that night, but the beginning was so fearfully dull that it appalled not only the others but himself, and he said happily:

"Yes, it is a dull beginning. I say, let us pretend that it is the end."

And then at last they all got into bed for Integra's story, the story they loved best, the story Alucard hated. Usually when she began to tell this story he left the room or put his hands over his ears; and possibly if he had done either of those things this time they might all still be on the island. But to-night he remained on his stool; and we shall see what happened.


	11. Integra's Story

Author's Notes: Lack of reviews tells me this fic is not very good, but it needs to be finished, so finish it I will. I love J.M. Barrie's novel, though, so I will follow that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan, that would be dear Kohta Hirano and Great Ormond Street Hospital.

* * *

"Listen, then," said Integra, settling down to her story, with Jan at her feet and seven boys in the bed. "There was once a gentleman-"

"I had rather he had been a lady," Jan said.

"I wish he had been a white rat," said Pip.

"Fool, there is a white wolf in the story," said Walter.

"It's not the same!" Pip snapped.

"Quiet," their mother admonished them. "There was a lady also, and-"

"Oh, mummy," cried the first twin, "you mean that there is a lady also, don't you? She is not dead, is she?"

"Oh, no." She should hope not.

"I am awfully glad she isn't dead," said Walter. "Are you glad, Luke?"

"Of course I am."

"Are you glad, Pip?"

"Rather."

"Are you glad, Twins?"

"We are glad."

"Oh dear," sighed Integra.

"Little less noise there," Alucard called out, determined that she should have fair play, however beastly a story it might be in his opinion.

"The gentleman's name," Integra continued, "was Sir Hellsing, and her name was Mrs. Hellsing."

"I knew them," Luke said, to annoy the others.

"I think I knew them," said Pip rather doubtfully.

"They were married, you know," explained Integra, "and what do you think they had?"

"White rats," cried Pip, inspired.

"No."

"It's awfully puzzling," said Walter, who knew the story by heart.

"Not quite, Walter. They had a descendant."

"What's a descendant?"

"Well, you are one, Twin."

"Did you hear that, Walter? I am a descendant."

"Descendants are only children," said Walter.

"Indeed," sighed Integra. "Now this child was a little girl who was legally a boy, because her mother died before she could have another."

"Another what, mummy?"

"Descendant," Integra said.

"Oh no!" cried the first twin, "I would that she had not died!"

"As would I," Integra sighed, "She was raised like a boy, as I have said, and no governess would come near her because they thought she was unnatural."

"Unnatural?"

"That she is not of this world."

"I did not think she was of this world. Did you, Pip?"

"Nope."

"Did you think so, Jan?"

"Hell no!"

"Did you. . . ?"

"Hush!" Integra said, "The girl had a faithful nurse called Captain; he was her only friend in the whole world. He fed her, dressed her, looked after her, and protected her from danger, whatever it might be."

"If only he were a white rat," Pip sighed, "Then he would be perfect."

"Would you shut up about the white rats already?" Jan snapped.

"I quite agree," Integra said, "Then Sir Hellsing had died, and his brother was angry with her for inheriting the Hellsing Estate, which she could not have done if she were not legally a boy, and so he chained the Captain up in the yard and tried to kill her."

"I wonder how he tried to kill her?" Jan said, "Do you know, Pip?"

"Not I," Pip said, "Do you, Twin?"

"I can't hazard a guess."

"I didn't think so. Do you know, Walter?"

"Pipe down," Walter said, "He tried to use a gun."

"Thank you, Water," Integra said.

"Mummy's favourite," Jan muttered under his breath.

"She hid in the nursery," Integra continued, "where she discovered a shadow that belonged to a wonderful boy who taught her to fly, and so the two children flew away."

"Boring!" Jan shouted, "Go back to the part where the uncle tries to kill her."

"I rather like this part," Walter said.

"We like it too!" cried the twins.

"It's an awfully good story," said Pip.

"They flew away," Integra continued, "to the Neverland, where the lost children are."

"I just thought they did," Luke broke in excitedly. "I don't know how it is, but I just thought they did!"

"O Integra," cried one of the twins; "was one of the lost children a twin?"

"Yes, he was."

"O Integra," cried the other twin; "was one of the other lost children a twin?"

"Why, yes, he was."

"I am in a story. Hurrah, I am in a story, Pip."

"Hush. Now I want you to consider the feelings of the unhappy Captain when his charge flew away."

"Oo!" they all moaned, though they were not really considering the feelings of the unhappy Captain one jot.

"He looked after her for her whole life," Integra continued solemnly, "And tried to protect her at a time when no one else would; but at the first sign of novelty, she flew away."

""Oo!"

"Think of where he must be right now," Integra said mournfully, "Chained in the yard, beaten by the evil uncle, waiting patiently for his charge to fly home."

"It's awfully sad," the first twin said cheerfully.

"I don't see how it can have a happy ending," said the second twin. "Do you, Pip?"

"I'm frightfully anxious."

"If you knew how great is a nurse's love," Integra told them triumphantly, "you would have no fear." She had now come to the part that Alucard hated.

"I do like a nurse's love," said Jan, hitting Pip with a pillow. "Do you like a nurse's love, Pip?"

"I do just," said Pip, hitting back.

"You see," Integra said complacently, "our heroine knew that her nurse would always leave the window open for his charge to fly back by; so she stayed away for years and had a lovely time, never once thinking about how her absence might hurt her dear nurse."

"Did she ever go back?"

"I will now," said Integra, bracing herself up for her finest effort, "take a peep into the future." And they all gave themselves the twist that makes peeps into the future easier. "Years have rolled by, and who is this elegant lady of uncertain age knighted at London Station?"

"O Integra, who is she?" cried Pip, every bit as excited as if he didn't know.

"Can it be-yes-no-it is-the fair Integra!"

"Oh!"

"And who is that noble Dame," Integra continued, "Who was once such a timid little girl, now grown to run a man's estate?"

"Can she be Integra?"

"She is!"

"Oh!"

"See, dear children," says Integra pointing upwards, "There is the window still standing open. And now I am rewarded for my sublime faith in a nurse's love."

"Oh!"

"And now it is time for me to stop hiding out in the Neverland and resume my place as head of the Hellsing Estate, just as my father would have wanted."

"Father?" Jan cried, breaking out of the future, "I thought we were talking about the nurse!"

"It is my father as much as my nurse," Integra said, "For it was my father who left me the Hellsing Estate instead of my uncle."

"Aye, makes sense to me," Pip said.

"So up she shall fly to her nurse and captain, who is her guardian in every way, and pen cannot describe the happy scene, over which we draw a veil."

That was the story, and they were as pleased with it as the fair narrator herself. Everything just as it should be, you see. Off we skip like the most heartless things in the world, which is what children are, but so attractive; and we have an entirely selfish time, and then when we have need of special attention we nobly return for it, confident that we shall be rewarded instead of smacked.

So great indeed was their faith in a nurse's love and a father's trust that they felt they could afford to be callous for a bit longer.

But there was one there who knew better, and when Integra finished he uttered a hollow groan.

"What is it, Alucard?" she cried, running to him, thinking he was ill. She felt him solicitously, lower down than his chest. "Where is it, Alucard?"

"It isn't that kind of pain," Alucard replied darkly.

"Then what kind is it?"

"Integra, you are wrong about nurses," he said, "But even more than that, you are wrong about fathers."

They all gathered round him in affright, so alarming was his agitation; and with a fine candour he told them what he had hitherto concealed.

"Long ago," he said, "I thought like you that my father would always protect and love me. But he ran into some trouble with a political enemy, and he gave me to them to save his own skin."

I am not sure that this was true, but Alucard thought it was true; and it scared them.

"He did not protect you at all?" they asked.

"Not a bit," Alucard croaked, "he felt himself more important."

"Are you sure fathers are like that?"

"Yes."

So this was the truth about fathers. The toads!

Still it is best to be careful; and no one knows so quickly as a child when he should give in.

"Well I know my father was not like that," Integra said confidently, "And I know my nurse shall protect me, just as any loyal nurse will, and now I shall go home."

"Not to-night?" asked the lost boys bewildered. They knew in what they called their hearts that one can get on quite well without a nurse, and that it is only the nurses who think you can't.

"At once," Integra replied resolutely, for the horrible thought had come to her: "Perhaps the Captain is dead by this time? Or perhaps he is near dead with mourning? No, I must go to him at once!"

This dread made her forgetful of what must be Alucard's feelings, and she said to him rather sharply, "Alucard, will you make the necessary arrangements?"

"If you wish it," he replied, as coolly as if she had asked him to pass the nuts.

Not so much as a sorry-to-lose-you between them! If she did not mind the parting, he was going to show her, was Alucard, that neither did he.

But of course he cared very much; and he was so full of wrath against grown-ups, who, as usual, were spoiling everything, that as soon as he got inside his tree he breathed intentionally quick short breaths at the rate of about five to a second. He did this because there is a saying in the Neverland that, every time you breathe, a grown-up dies; and Alucard was killing them off vindictively as fast as possible.

How awful grown-ups were; how nasty were they! Alucard remembered how betrayed he was when Arthur grew up; that lusty, wily, rambunctious lad that was more fun than Hugh and Shelby combined, and he grew up! Alucard, the spirit of youth, had arrived in the mansion in just the form that Arthur liked the best, only to find him old and worn. How awful, how devastating! Yet Alucard could have forgiven this after he first saw Integra, alseep in the bed, and he would have given her a real kiss and taken her away and been with her forever; had not Arthur stepped in with the Captain and declared his intention to keep Integra. She would be the next leader of the Hellsing Estate, he declared, and he would not have her consorting with strange boys. And yet he had consorted with strange girls at her age; how selfish grown-ups could be!

And yet Integra, who wanted to go home immediately, was Alucard's master and he was obliged to carry out her orders, no matter how he disagreed with them, and so he emerged from his tree to do just that.

Then, having given the necessary instructions to the natives he returned to the home, where an unworthy scene had been enacted in his absence. Panic-stricken at the thought of losing Integra, the lost boys had advanced upon her threateningly.

"It will be worse than before she came," they cried.

"We shan't let her go."

"Let's keep her prisoner."

"Ay, chain her up."

"You shall do no such thing!" Integra cried, but still they advanced.

In her extremity an instinct told her to which of them to turn.

"Walter," she cried, "I appeal to you."

Was it not strange? She appealed to Walter, quite the most indifferent one.

Grandly, however, did Walter respond. For that one moment he discarded his indifference and spoke with severity.

"I am just the butler," he said, "and nobody minds me. But the first who does not behave to Integra like an English gentleman I will blood him severely."

He pulled taut his wires; and for that instant his sun was at noon. The others held back uneasily. Then Alucard returned, and they saw at once that they would get no support from him. He would keep no girl in the Neverland against her will.

"Integra," he said, striding up and down, "I have asked the redskins to guide you through the wood, as flying tires you so."

"Thank you, Alucard."

"Then," he continued, in the short sharp voice of one accustomed to be obeyed, "Rip Van Winkle will take you across the sea. Wake her, Pip."

Pip had to knock twice before he got an answer, though Rip had really been sitting up in bed listening for some time.

"Who are you? How dare you? Go away," she cried.

"You are to get up, Rip," Pip called, "and take Integra on a journey."

Of course Rip had been delighted to hear that Integra was going; but she was jolly well determined not to be her courier, and she said so in still more offensive language. Then she pretended to be asleep again.

"She says she won't!" Pip exclaimed, aghast at such insubordination, whereupon Alucard went sternly toward the young lady's chamber.

"Rip," he rapped out, "if you don't get up and dress at once I will open the curtains, and then we shall all see you in your negligee."

This made her leap to the floor. "Who said I wasn't getting up?" she cried.

In the meantime the boys were gazing very forlornly at Integra, now equipped with her personal belongings for her journey; which really only consisted of her original school dress and the comb that Alucard gave her from the lagoon. By this time they were dejected, not merely because they were about to lose her, but also because they felt that she was going off to something nice to which they had not been invited. Novelty was beckoning to them as usual.

Crediting them with a nobler feeling, Integra melted.

"Dear ones," she said, "if you will all come with me I feel almost sure I can get my father's associates to adopt you."

The invitation was meant specially for Alucard, but each of the boys was thinking exclusively of himself, and at once they jumped with joy.

"But won't they think us rather a handful?" Pip asked in the middle of his jump.

"Oh no," said Integra, rapidly thinking it out. "It will only mean having a few beds in the drawing-room; they can been hidden behind the screens on first Thursdays."

"Alucard, can we go?" they all cried imploringly. They took it for granted that if they went he would go also, but really they scarcely cared. Thus children are ever ready, when novelty knocks, to desert their dearest ones.

"All right," Alucard replied with a bitter smile, and immediately they rushed to get their things.

"And now, Alucard," Integra said, thinking she had put everything right, "I am going to give you your medicine before you go." She loved to give them medicine, and undoubtedly gave them too much. Of course it was only water, but it was out of a bottle, and she always shook the bottle and counted the drops, which gave it a certain medicinal quality. On this occasion, however, she did not give Alucard his draught, for just as she had prepared it, she saw a look on his face that made her heart sink.

"Get your things, Alucard," she cried, shaking.

"No," he answered, pretending indifference, "I am not going with you, Integra."

"Yes, Alucard."

"No."

To show that her departure would leave him unmoved, he skipped up and down the room, playing gaily on his heartless pipes. She had to run about after him, though it was rather undignified.

"To find your father," she coaxed.

Now, if Alucard had ever quite had a father, he no longer missed him. He could do very well without one. He had thought them out, and remembered only their bad points.

"No, no," he told Integra decisively; "perhaps he would say I was old, and I just want always to be a little boy and to have fun."

"But, Alucard-"

"No."

"Alucard, as your master, I am ordering you to come!"

"It is too bad you are not my master anymore!"

This stung more than he had intended, and Integra gave up on him immediately.

"Very well," she said primly, and walked away.

This surprised Alucard, who had expected her to put up more of a fight.

"Aren't you going to chase me?" Alucard asked, but Integra had quite enough of chasing him.

And so the others had to be told, "Alucard isn't coming."

Alucard not coming! They gazed blankly at him, their sticks over their backs, and on each stick a bundle. Their first thought was that if Alucard was not going he had probably changed his mind about letting them go.

But he was far too proud or that. "If you find your fathers," he said darkly, "I hope you will like them."

The awful cynicism of this made an uncomfortable impression, and most of them began to look rather doubtful. After all, their faces said, were they not noodles to want to go?

"Now then," cried Alucard, "no fuss, no blubbering; good-bye, Integra." And he held out his hand cheerily, quite as if they must really go now, for he had something important to do.

She had to take his hand, and there was no indication that he would prefer a thimble.

"You will remember about paying your bills, Alucard?" she said, lingering over him. She was always so particular about their bills.

"Yes."

"And you will take your medicine?"

"Yes."

That seemed to be everything, and an awkward pause followed. Alucard, however, was not the kind that breaks down before other people. "Are you ready, Rip Van Winkle?" he called out.

"Ja, ja."

"Then lead the way."

Rip darted up the nearest tree, and the boys quickly followed. Integra was last up, of course, and she turned to say good bye to Alucard one last time; but he had enough of lingering good byes, and retreated into the next room so as not to let on how disappointed he was. He played gaily on his pipes so that Integra would think him in a jolly mood, and leave straight away.

"Alucard," Integra called. For one dreadful moment, she considered casting her pride away and running to him, and telling him that she changed her mind about the whole business and would like to stay forever.

But she had her duty as true head of the Hellsing Estate to consider, and her duty as a loving charge to her nurse, whom she had long neglected, and she sighed in defeat and whispered, "Good bye, Alucard," and went up her tree for the last time.

When she emerged from her tree, she found that the Iscariot pirates had her lost boys gagged and bound.


	12. The Children are Carried Off

Author's Notes: The characters (especially Anderson) will act a little OOC in this next chapter, but I need to get the story moving. We are only a few chapters until the end, and I want to finish this before the end of my spring break.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan; that would be dear Kohta Hirano and Great Ormond Street Hospital.

* * *

The more quickly this horror is disposed of the better. The first to emerge from his tree was Jan. He rose out of it into the arms of Cecco, who flung him to Yumie, who flung him to Heinkel, who flung him from to and fro and so he was tossed from one to another till he fell at the feet of the oldest priest. All the boys were plucked from their trees in this ruthless manner; and several of them were in the air at a time, like bales of goods flung from hand to hand.

A different treatment was accorded to Integra, who came last.

Seeing her lost boys treated thus, she attempted to let out a scream that would travel down her tree to alert Alucard. But one of the pirates stood behind her at the ready, and clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle her scream; which, obstructed thus, pounced off of his hand and down her throat instead of continuing its journey down her tree, and Alucard remained blissfully unaware of the danger above.

"All right Cecco," Anderson whispered darkly, "Take her away."

As Anderson would not hear of the whole group tying a single unarmed girl, believing it to make the _Iscariot_ priests no better than rapists, she was instead "escorted" away to the ship by only Cecco while the other pirates stayed to finish restraining the lost boys.

They were tied to prevent their flying away, doubled up with their knees close to their ears; and for the trussing of them the oldest priest had cut a rope into six equal pieces. All went well until Luke's turn came, when he was found to be like those irritating parcels that is shaped so strangely that it uses up all the string in going round and leave no tags with which to tie a knot. The pirates kicked him in their rage, just as you kick the parcel (though in fairness you should kick the string); and strange to say it was Anderson who told them to belay their violence. His lip was curled with malicious triumph.

While his men were merely sweating because every time they tried to pack the unhappy lad tight in one part he stuck out in another, Anderson's master mind had gone far beneath Luke's surface, probing not for effects but for causes; and his exultation showed that he had found them. Luke, white to the gills, knew that Anderson had surmised his secret, which was this, that no boy so tall could use a tree wherein an average man need stick. Poor Luke, most wretched of all the children now, for he was in a panic about Alucard, bitterly regretted what he had done. Disobeying the rule never to grow up, he had shot in consequence to his present height, and instead of reducing himself to fit his tree he had, unknown to the others, whittled his tree to make it fit him.

Sufficient of this Anderson guessed to persuade him that Alucard at last lay at his mercy, but no word of the dark design that now formed in the subterranean caverns of his mind crossed his lips; he merely signed that the captives were to be conveyed to the ship, and that he would be alone.

How to convey them? Hunched up in their ropes they might indeed be rolled down hill like barrels, but most of the way lay through a morass. Again Anderson's genius surmounted difficulties. He indicated that the grand mansion, which was not a grand mansion at all, but a little house, must be used as a conveyance. The children were flung into it, four stout pirates raised it on their shoulders, the others fell in behind, and singing the hateful religious chorus the strange procession set off through the wood. I don't know whether any of the children were crying; if so, the singing drowned the sound; but as the little house disappeared in the forest, a brave though tiny jet of smoke issued from its chimney as if defying Anderson.

Anderson saw it, and it did Alucard a bad service. It dried up any trickle of pity for him that may have remained in the priest's infuriated breast.

The first thing he did on finding himself alone in the fast falling night was to walk to Luke's tree, and make sure that it provided him with a passage. Dark as were his thoughts, his green eyes were as soft as spring. Intently he listened for any sound from the nether world, but all was as silent below as above. Was that boy asleep, or did he stand waiting at the foot of Luke's tree, with his dagger in his hand?

There was no way of knowing, save by going down. Anderson let his cloak slip softly to the ground, and then biting his lips till a lewd blood stood on them, he stepped into the tree. He was a brave man, but for a moment he had to stop there and wipe his brow with the flat of his blade, which was dripping like a candle. Then, silently, he let himself go into the unknown.

He arrived unmolested at the foot of the shaft, and stood still again, biting at his breath, which had almost left him. As his eyes became accustomed to the dim light various objects in the home under the trees took shape; but the only one on which his greedy gaze rested, long sought for and found at last, was the great bed. On the bed lay Alucard fast asleep.

Unaware of the tragedy being enacted above, Alucard had continued, for a little time after the children left, to play gaily on his pipes: no doubt rather a forlorn attempt to prove to himself that he did not care. Then he decided not to take his medicine, so as to grieve Integra. Then he lay down on the bed outside the coverlet, to vex her still more; for she had always tucked them inside it, because you never know that you may not grow chilly at the turn of the night. Then he nearly cried; but it struck him how indignant she would be if he laughed instead; so he laughed a haughty laugh and fell asleep in the middle of it.

Sometimes, though not often, he had dreams, and they were more painful than the dreams of other boys. For hours he could not be separated from these dreams, though he wailed piteously in them. They had to do, I think, with the riddle of his existence. At such times it had been Integra's custom to take him out of bed and sit with him on her lap, soothing him in dear ways of her own invention, and when he grew calmer to put him back to bed before he quite woke up, so that he should not know of the indignity to which she had subjected him. But on this occasion he had fallen at once into a dreamless sleep. One arm dropped over the edge of the bed, one leg was arched, and the unfinished part of his laugh was stranded on his mouth, which was open, showing the little pearls.

Thus defenseless Anderson found him. He stood silent at the foot of the tree looking across the chamber at his enemy. Did no feeling of compassion disturb his sombre breast? The man was not wholly evil; he loved flowers (I have been told) and sweet music (he was himself no mean performer on the harpsichord); and, let it be frankly admitted, the idyllic nature of the scene stirred him profoundly. Mastered by his better self he would have returned reluctantly up the tree, but for one thing.

What stayed him was Alucard's impertinent appearance as he slept. The open mouth, the drooping arm, the arched knee: they were such a personification of cockiness as, taken together, will never again, one may hope, be presented to eyes so sensitive to their offensiveness. They steeled Anderson's heart. If his rage had broken him into a hundred pieces every one of them would have disregarded the incident, and leapt at the sleeper.

Though a light from the one lamp shone dimly on the bed, Anderson stood in darkness himself, with the round sheen of his glasses shining, and at the first stealthy step forward he discovered an obstacle, the door of Luke's tree. It did not entirely fill the aperture, and he had been looking over it. Feeling for the catch, he found to his fury that it was low down, beyond his reach. To his disordered brain it seemed then that the irritating quality in Alucard's face and figure visibly increased, and he rattled the door and flung himself against it. Was his enemy to escape him after all?

But what was that? The white in his eye had caught sight of Alucard's medicine standing on a ledge within easy reach. He fathomed what it was straightaway, and immediately knew that the sleeper was in his power. Far more satisfying than staving the door with his many blades and flinging them upon his enemy like thousands before, he guessed rightly that the medicine was a gift from Integra, and knew of Alucard's fondness for her, and knew how he could use that fondness to injure him far more than any bayonet could.

Such was the depth of Anderson's hatred toward Alucard, and such was how his hatred manifested itself in that dreadful moment of uncharacteristic behaviour.

Still civilized to the core, Anderson always carried about his person a quill and parchment, which he presently used to scribble a message which he knew, would alarm Alucard once he deigned to waken sufficiently to read it. Having thus written the letter, Anderson thrust one of his blades through the paper and into the wall, which made a loud "SHINK", which startled but did not wake the cocky youth.

Lest he should be taken alive, Anderson pulled again from his person a dreadful drug, blended by himself of all the death-dealing rings that had come into his possession. These he had boiled down into a yellow liquid quite unknown to science, which was probably the most virulent poison in existence.

Five drops of this he now added to Alucard's cup. He knew that the draught would not kill Alucard, for the cocky boy was far too conceited to allow mere poison to do him in. But it would weaken him severely, thinking that he was drinking a remedy provided by his beloved master, only believe she intended to make him ill in light of their recent quarrel (which Anderson had been listening at the top of the tree), and the shock would wound his spirit. And when he would read the note and come to rescue his companions; well, he would be at Anderson's mercy.

His hand shook, but it was in exultation rather than in shame. As he did it he avoided glancing at the sleeper, but not lest pity should unnerve him; merely to avoid spilling. Then one long gloating look he cast upon his victim, and turning, wormed his way with difficulty up the tree. As he emerged at the top he looked the very spirit of evil breaking from its hole. With a last maniacal laugh, he stole away through the trees.

Alucard slept on. The light guttered and went out, leaving the tenement in darkness; but still he slept. It must have been not less than ten o'clock by the crocodile, when he suddenly sat up in his bed, wakened by he knew not what. It was an urgent tapping on the door of his tree.

Soft and cautious, but in that stillness it was sinister. Alucard felt for his dagger till his hand gripped it. Then he spoke.

"Who is that?"

For a moment there was no answer: then again the knock.

"Who are you?"

No answer.

He was thrilled, and he loved being thrilled. In two strides he reached the door. Unlike Luke's door, it filled the aperture, so that he could not see beyond it, nor could the one knocking see him.

"I won't open unless you speak," Alucard cried.

Then the visitor spoke, in a lovely bell-like voice.

"Let me in, Alucard."

It was Rip, and quickly he unbarred to her. She flew in excitedly, her face flushed and her suit stained with mud.

"What is it?"

"Oh, you could never guess!" she cried, and offered him three guesses. "Out with it!" he shouted, and in one ungrammatical sentence, as long as the ribbons that conjurers pull from their mouths, she told of the capture of Integra and the boys.

"That is ridiculous," Alucard cried, "The pirates could not catch Seras Victoria's redskins by surprise; to do so fairly is beyond the wit of the white man."

"Then it is sure proof that Anderson conducted it unfairly," Rip Van Winkle said, "for it was done."

"How do you know?"

"I saw it."

"Oh."

"And well before the lost boys emerged from their trees."

"An ambush, then?" Alucard asked excitedly.

"Ja," Rip said, "And a kidnapping."

"Kidnapping?" Alucard said, "Nonsense; Integra could not be fooled like that."

"Oh yes she can," Rip said, with not a little glee, and she pointed. "Look!"

The truth is that Rip had just spotted the note that Anderson had pinned with one of his signature bayonets to Luke's open door; but she was pleased regardless, for it told her story true. Though Alucard could not read one jot, Rip Van Winkle could, and she did so with gusto, and narrated as follows:

_"Dear Alucard,_

_Your presence is required at the request of your children. Integra awaits your arrival._

_Signed, Father Alexander Anderson."_

Alucard's heart pounded excitedly as he listened. Integra bound, and on the pirate ship; she who loved everything to be just so!

"I'll rescue her!" he cried, leaping at his weapons. As he leapt he thought of something he could do to please her, just as Anderson had predicted. He would take his medicine.

His hand closed on the fatal draught.

"No!" shrieked Rip Van Winle, who had heard Anderson mutter about his deed as he sped through the forest.

"Why not?"

"It is poisoned."

"Poisoned? Who could have poisoned it?"

"Anderson."

"Don't be silly. How could Anderson have got down here?"

Alucard could imagine Anderson flinging one of his bayonets down the tree with a message attached to it; but to climb down himself when the trees were so small?

Alas, Rip Van Winkle could not explain this, for even she did not know the dark secret of Luke's tree. Nevertheless Anderson's words had left no room for doubt. The cup was poisoned.

"It cannot be true, the bottle has been down with me the whole time. Besides," said Alucard, quite believing himself "I never fell asleep."

He raised the cup. No time for words now; time for deeds; and with one of her lightning movements Rip pelted the bottle like a bullet so that it shattered, drenching herself down to the dregs in poison.

"Rip! How dare you spill my medicine?"

But she did not answer. Already she was reeling in the air.

"What is the matter with you?" cried Alucard, suddenly afraid.

"It was poisoned, Alucard," she told him softly; "and now I am going to be dead."

"O Rip, did you do it to save me?"

"Yes."

"But why, Rip?"

Her wings would scarcely carry her now, but in reply she alighted on his shoulder and gave his nose a loving bite. She whispered in his ear "You silly ass," and then, tottering to her chamber, lay down on the bed.

His head almost filled the fourth wall of her little room as he knelt near her in distress. Every moment her light was growing fainter; and he knew that if it went out she would be no more. She liked his tears so much that she put out her beautiful arms and let them run over her.

Her voice was so low that at first he could not make out what she said. Then he made it out. She said, "I think I can get well again if children believe in fairies."

Alucard flung out his arms. There were no children there, and it was night time; but he addressed all who might be dreaming of the Neverland, and who were therefore nearer to him than you think: boys and girls in their nighties, and naked papooses in their baskets hung from trees.

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Rip perked up almost briskly to hear her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't sure.

"What do you think?" she asked Alucard.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Rip die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

The clapping stopped suddenly; as if countless mothers had rushed to their nurseries to see what on earth was happening; but already Rip was saved. First her voice grew strong, then she popped out of bed, then she was flashing through the room more merry and impudent than ever. She never thought of thanking those who believed, but she would have like to get at the ones who had hissed.

"And now to rescue Integra!"

The moon was riding in a cloudy heaven when Alucard rose from his tree, begirt with weapons and wearing little else, to set out upon his perilous quest. It was not such a night as he would have chosen. He had hoped to fly, keeping not far from the ground so that nothing unwonted should escape his eyes; but in that fitful light to have flown low would have meant trailing his shadow through the trees, thus disturbing birds and acquainting a watchful foe that he was astir.

He regretted now that he had given the birds of the island such strange names that they are very wild and difficult of approach.

There was no other course but to press forward in native fashion, as which happily he was an adept. But in what direction, for he could not be sure that the children had been taken to the ship? A light fall of snow had obliterated all footmarks; and a deathly silence pervaded the island, as if for a space Nature stood still in horror of the recent carnage. He had taught the children something of the forest lore that he had himself learned from Seras Victoria and Rip Van Winkle, and knew that in their dire hour they were not likely to forget it. Jan, if he had an opportunity, would blaze the trees, for instance, Pip would drop seeds, and Integra would leave her handkerchief at some important place. The morning was needed to search for such guidance, and he could not wait. The upper world had called him, but would give no help.

The crocodile passed him, but not another living thing, not a sound, not a movement; and yet he knew well that sudden death might be at the next tree, or stalking him from behind.

He swore this terrible oath: "Anderson or me this time."

Now he crawled forward like a snake, and again erect, he darted across a space on which the moonlight played, one finger on his lip and his dagger at the ready. He was frightfully happy.


	13. The Pirate Ship

Author's Notes: I don't care what anyone thinks, I rather like this chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, Hellsing, or a pirate ship. I do, however, own a pit bull; fear me!

* * *

Integra blinked, rather in surprise, when she was taken aboard the _Iscariot_.

She had expected it to be a rather frightful and melancholic place. On approaching the ship in the dingy, she had seen one green light squinting over Kidd's Creek, which is near the mouth of the pirate river, and marked where the _Iscariot_ lay, low in the water; a rakish-looking craft foul to the hull, every beam in her detestable, like the very cross from which the Son of God had been crucified. Integra had heard her described as the traitor of the seas, for she floated immune in the horror of its name.

Her lost boys were positively trembling with fear as they were hoisted on deck, and turned to their mother for comfort.

"We shall see what they have in store for us," Integra said to her gagged children. "Be brave, lads, and do not provoke them unnecessarily."

And yet, when taken on deck, Integra found it to be a very neat and tidy place. The priestly crew worked quickly and efficiently; cooperatively as well as independently, chanting their evening prayers and performing their sacrilegious duties calmly, yet pleasantly. The fog that she had often seen as coming from the deck was merely incense lighted for evening mass, and the ominous chanting was simply prayers in Latin; which, now that she could see them up close, seemed more benevolent and soothing by the priests' expression and tone.

The ship was wrapped in the blanket of night, through which no sound from her could have reached the shore. There was little sound, and none agreeable save the whir of the ship's sewing machine at which Yumiko sat, ever industrious and obliging, the essence of the commonplace, pathetic Yumiko. I know not why she was so infinitely pathetic, unless it were because she was so pathetically unaware of it; but even strong men had to turn hastily from looking at her, and more than once on summer evenings she had touched the fount of Anderson's tears and made it flow. Of this, as of almost everything else, Yumiko was quite unconscious.

Anderson trod the deck in thought. O man unfathomable. It was his hour of triumph. Alucard would soon be removed for ever from his path, and all the other boys were on the brig, about to walk the plank. It was his grimmest deed since the days when he had brought the Archbishop to heel; and knowing as we do how vain a tabernacle is man, could we be surprised had he now paced the deck unsteadily, bellied out by the winds of his success?

But there was no elation in his gait, which kept pace with the action of his sombre mind. Anderson was profoundly dejected.

But what could it possibly be? Alas, we cannot figure the answer, for not a living soul can figure the enigma that is Anderson.

Anderson was not even his true name. Everything about him was completely unknown. To reveal who he really was would even at this date set the country in a blaze; but as those who read between the lines must already have guessed, he had probably been at a religious school; and its traditions still clung to him like garments, with which indeed they are largely concerned. Thus it was offensive to him even now to board a ship in the same dress in which he grappled her, and he still adhered in his walk to the school's distinguished slouch. But above all he retained the passion for good form.

Good form! However much he may have degenerated, he still knew that this is all that really matters.

From far within him he heard a creaking as of rusty portals, and through them came a stern tap-tap-tap, like hammering in the night when one cannot sleep. "Have you been in good form of the Lord to-day?" was their eternal question.

His vitals were tortured by this problem. It was a bayonet within him sharper than the iron ones; and as it tore him, the perspiration dripped down his swarthy countenance and streaked his doublet. Ofttimes he drew his sleeve across his face, but there was no damming that trickle.

Ah, envy not Anderson.

There came to him a presentiment of his early dissolution. It was as if Alucard's terrible oath had boarded the ship. Anderson felt a passionate desire to make his dying speech, lest presently there should be no time for it.

"Better for the Lord," he cried, "if He had had fewer abominations!"

There was a stunned silence following this proclamation.

"And these blasted children do not fear me!"

Gentleman Heinkel exchanged uneasy glances with the crew.

Strange that he should think of this, which had never troubled him before; for of course the children feared him! Even Jan, who loudly claimed in colourful language that he did not, until Anderson flashed his bayonets, and then he was silent. But why think so for a moment? Perhaps the sewing machine brought it to his mind. For long he thought to himself, staring at Yumiko, who was hemming placidly, under the conviction that all children feared her.

Feared her! Feared Yumiko! There was not a child on board the brig that night who did not already love her. Yumie had said horrid things to them and hit them with the broad side of her katana, because she could not hit with her fist, since Yumiko would have been heart-broken. And, indeed, once she had replaced her spectacles and become so tearfully apologetic as Yumiko, they had only clung to her all the more. Luke had tried on her spectacles.

To tell poor Yumiko that they thought her lovable! Anderson itched to do it, but in some ways it seemed too brutal. Instead, he enquired about the cassocks she was sewing.

"Nearly finished, Father," she said complacently. "I only need to finish the hems."

"Ay, they're fine hems," Anderson said kindly, then inquired to Heinkel about the crew.

"Vell, old Renardo has thrown out his back again," Heinkel said nervously. "And Cecco has a bit of a sore throat, but other than that. . ."

"But do ye think they'll be ready faer the execution toonight?"

"Jawhol."

"Ay, tha's good enough faer me. Call all hands on deck"; and once they were assembled, he asked sternly:

"Are all the children tied, so that they cannot fly away?"

"Ay, ay."

"Then hoist them up."

The wretched prisoners were dragged from the hold and ranged in line in front of him. For a time he seemed unconscious of their presence. He lolled at his ease, humming, not unmelodiously, snatches of a song, and fingering a pack of cards. Ever and anon the light from the confession candles gave a touch of colour to his face.

They were only boys, and they went white as they saw the priests preparing the fatal blades. But they tried to look brave when Integra was brought up.

No words of mine can tell you how Integra despised those pirates. To the boys there was at least some glamour in being aboard a pirate ship; but all that she saw was that the hold had not been tidied for years. There was not a porthole on the grimy glass of which you might not have written with your finger "Catholic swine"; and she had already written it on several. Of course, the hold was kept deliberately filthy to show what they thought of the prisoners they kept, and Integra did not miss this. But as the boys gathered round her she had no thought, of course, save for them.

"Keep a stiff upper lip," she said grandly, "And whatever unspeakable tortures they intend to inflict, we must bear it with dignity."

They gulped audibly, but nodded. If Integra, a girl, could bear the torture calmly, then so would they like English gentlemen.

As to the "unspeakable tortures," the pirates approached the terrified children with their faces covered in shadows, and the moonlight reflected off their glasses and crosses menacingly. It took all the strength in their stiff upper lips not to cry outright, and the lost boys huddled to Integra best they could. The priests grinned sadistically, so that the moon reflected off their silver white teeth, raised their swords, and . . .

Broke out into a lively ditty.

_"Hail Mary!" _they chanted. _"Hail Mary! Hail May! Hail May! Hail May!"_

The lost boys stared, their eyes wide and their jaws open; not sure what they were seeing. The spot light had been lit, and the priests were dancing in a very jovial sort of way, round in circles and in rows; and, contrary to their usual sinister song about killing the enemies of their Lord, were instead singing about all the positive advantages of working for the Lord.

Even Integra was taken aback. She secretly wondered if they rehearsed this song for every prisoner they tried to convert.

_"So try the life of a priest!_

_You'll relish the life of a nun!_

_There isn't a boy who won't enjoy_

_Working in service of the Lord!_

_The great and justice of the Lord!"_

"Lord! Lord!" Yumie chanted, dancing wildly and brandishing her blade at the children. "Kill all the heathens and devils and savages and Protestants of the. . ."

Anderson cut her off by placing her spectacles on her nose, so that she became disoriented as Yumiko, and quickly stepped forward with a much more appealing offer.

"As a special faer today," he said with a voice that was all honey. "I'll tell ye what I'll do; for those who sign without delay, I'll give this Holy Grail to you."

It was a very beautiful holy grail; pure gold and with various precious gems embedded into it so that it sparkled and shined.

"Come on! Why be a heathen faer another day? Why stay aboard a ship that's already sank? Come join and I'll be frank. Unless ye do, ye'll walk the PLANK!"

His dark voice turned pitch black on saying this, and he pointed his massive gloved finger at plank as condemningly as though he were pointing to the gates of Hell.

_"The choice is up to you!"_ Anderson sang.

_"The choice is up to you!"_ the pirates sang.

_"Hail Mary!" _they sang, and danced around again. _"Hail Mary! Hail May! Hail May! Hail May!"_

The boys were staring with a mix of horror and interest as the pirates resumed their ditty. Somehow, as far as the lost boys were concerned, conforming to Catholicism seemed much more appealing than before. Integra, on the other hand, remained determinedly unimpressed, and turned up her nose in disgust.

They continued to dance in a much more cheerful way that makes onlookers want to join in.

_"You'll love the life of a priest!_

_You'll relish the life of a nun!_

_There's barrels of fun for everyone!_

_And you'll get treasures by the ton!"_

The boys' eyes lit up at this, for is there nothing a child dreams of more than fun, adventure and treasure out at sea in a pirate ship?

Having chosen their words carefully, leaving out that "fun" for them consisted of prayer, treasures were only for psalms and dancing was considered a sinful qualm, the Iscariot priests gathered in two lines that made between them a path that led to where Anderson waited at his desk. He held out the paper and quill that he always carried; the same quill that had written that deceptive letter to Alucard, which he now intended to use to sign the children onto his crew.

_"So sign up now my huns,"_ the priests concluded. _"Sign up with Father Anderson!"_

It shames me to admit that the boys not only bought the song hook, line and sinker, but they _ran over_ the very priest who untied them so that they could run in one big mob to sign the book. Ah, children; for have I anon said they would abandon all once novelty comes a knocking? Thankfully, their master was there to put things to right in a moment.

"Boys!" Integra admonished, and they all stopped. "Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?"

"But," Pip cried, clamouring out of the pile, "Father Anderson is most insistent, Integra."

"Ja," Jan cried, "He says we'll walk the fucking _plank_ if we don't."

"Then walk the plank we shall," Integra said decidedly. "Unless Alucard were to save us."

For reasons that only he knew, at present, Anderson thought this declaration very amusing. First he chucked, and then he laughed, and then he worked himself into such a frenzy that he threw his head back and let out a loud, booming bellow that shook the whole ship. It was a laugh that would strike fear into the hearts of even the most seasoned villain.

Integra pretended not to be bothered by Anderson's amusement, but merely turned her nose up high in the air. Eventually, however, his antics wore on her young nerves.

"What is so funny?" she demanded.

Gradually, Anderson composed himself, dabbed tears of mirth from his eyes with a handkerchief.

"Are ye sure Alucard will be any condition ta help you, my dear?" Anderson asked in his sweetest voice.

"Of course I do," Integra snapped, but her composer wavered. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Ah, nothing, only that I had a choice encounter with him earlier tonight, and. . ."

"And what?" Integra demanded, but she already feared the worst.

Anderson's eyes glinted white at the interruption, but he continued, "He seemed a wee bit off-colour."

"How do you mean?" Integra demanded, but her heart fluttered in fear for Alucard.

"Well, are ye sure there isn't anything wrong with the medicine ye give him?"

Anderson's words cut into Integra's heart more sharply than any bayonet, yet she struggled to compose herself, only to be met with another attack.

"Ah only ask because," Anderson continued, "Ah think ye might want tae be more careful o' what ye put in the glass; ye never know when some poison might find its way in!"

It was worse than a stab in the heart. Integra fell to her knees, clutching her breast painfully, but she still raised her head, the brave girl, and offered a feeble counter-attack.

"Of-of course not," she stuttered, cursing her own weakness. "Y-you must have. . ."

"Now see here, lass," Anderson said, "Do Ah look like the type tha can fit to one o yer wee little trees only to slip poison into a wee glass?"

It was true. He did not. Even dear Integra could not imagine, even for a second, that Anderson would be able to do down one of the whittled trees into their home to sneak poison into Alucard's glass. The idea was as unthinkable as fitting an elephant into a handbag. And besides which, Anderson was not the type to poison people anyway, so it had to be something else. And yet, Integra had extracted the water herself, placed it into the medicine bottle, corked the bottle, and kept it well hidden lest the children find it and accidentally over-dose enough to make themselves sick, so it had to be. . .

"Ah hope ye were careful about the water ye selected," Anderson continued, driving his bayonet home, "And did not gather it from Crocodile Creek, where the Incredibly Deadly Viper was last seen rinsing venom from his mouth."

The Incredibly Deadly Viper was not poisonous; in fact, it was the most harmless snake in all the Neverland. Alucard had only given it such a terrifying name to give it an advantage against its enemies, and if it was rinsing venom form its mouth, it was venom that belonged to another snake it got into a quarrel with; but now, his name was being used against him, for Integra did not know the Incredibly Deadly Viper was harmless.

"No!" Integra cried, and fell to her knees. "You're lying!"

"My dear, I never lie," Anderson said, and he was indeed telling the truth. He never lied, he only told half-truths. "And Ah do believe that Alucard is loyal enough to you that he would take his medicine before facing me, no matter how dire the occasion. Just this evening, when he caught wind of yer capture, his first instinct was tae make ye happy by taking the medicine ye prepared for him, an' the fight was over before it began. He did not even put up a gallant fight. More's the pity."

Integra could not bear to hear anymore; she covered her face with her hands and wept wildly.

It was a very solemn moment when the lost boys saw their once fearless master reduced to a sobbing wench aboard a pirate ship.

Integra must have known this too, for she removed her glasses and brushed the tears from her eyes.

Then, replacing her glasses, she glared vehemently at Anderson.

"You're lying," she whispered.

The pirates all gasped and looked at each other.

"You are lying," she said more fiercely, standing tall. "There is nothing wrong with Alucard's medicine; and if there is, it was not because of some over-sight on my part. _I_ am just as honest, diligent and fair with my servants as I am with myself, as well as my enemies, which is more than I can say for you, _Iscariot_. You are all lying, murderous pirates that preach sugar while practicing poison, offer silver in one hand while carrying a noose in the other, and promise salvation to the citizens of Neverland while planning to murder them so they may never have a chance to convert. You pillage, you plunder, you maim and you tear asunder everything that makes the Neverland the island come true. You attack my lost boys, kill the natives, and claim to be somehow against taking girls as prisoners when you are not above doing so to me or Seras Victoria. . ."

"Seras Victoria was taken prisoner?" Pip cried.

"Yes, back at the incident at Marooner's Rock," Integra said.

"Oh, I thought she was here," Pip said, "Did you think she was here, Jan?"

"She was injured too badly at the ambush of the Hellsing Organization," Integra said, "to be taken prisoner this time."

"What?" Pip cried.

"Yes," Integra said, "I wouldn't be surprised if she's in the healing tent right now, being turned into a vampire by the Witch Doktor."

"Murdering pirates!" Pip cried, and spat at their boots, and marched loyally back to his lady.

Despite Pip's interruption, Integra's speech was the single most inspiring the lost boys had ever heard from Integra. They had all stared in awe, even before Pip interrupted, and still felt fully convinced even when she had finished. When Pip had cried "Murdering pirates!" and marched to her side, they also cried "Murdering pirates!" and marched beside her as well. They no longer saw any glamour in working for the wicked crew, but instead felt proud to serve and die with such a lady.

The pirates were very surprised. They felt sure that the boys would sign on. Anderson, especially, had looked forward to having them join his crew, and sing Gentleman Heinkel's anthem and wear Yumiko's cassocks, as the perfect revenge for when Alucard would inevitably come to rescue them. And here they were; standing so loyally by their master's side!

"Come now, children," Anderson called impatiently, "many of ye insist on dying tonight, but Ah have room for two cabin boys. Which is it to be?"

Despite their master's inspiring courage, lost boys wilted under the shadow of such a fearsome man.

"Don't irritate him unnecessarily," had been Integra's instructions in the hold, prior to her brave speech just moments ago; so Luke stepped forward politely. Luke hated the idea of signing under such a man, but an instinct told him that it would be prudent to lay the responsibility on an absent person; and though a somewhat silly boy, he knew that mothers alone are always willing to be the buffer. All children know this about mothers, and despise them for it, but make constant use of it.

The pirates, believing him to be willing to sign on, held out the quill eagerly.

So Luke explained prudently, "You see, sir, I don't think my mother would like me to be a pirate. Would your mother like you to be a pirate, Walter?"

He winked at Walter, who said mournfully, "I don't think so," as if he wished things had been otherwise. "Would your mother like you to be a pirate, Twin?"

"I don't think so," said the first twin, as clever as the others. "Pip, would-"

"Silence this chatter," roared Anderson, and the spokesmen were dragged back. "You, boy," he said, addressing Jan, "ye look as if ye had a little pluck in you. Didst ye never want to be a pirate?"

Now Jan was not in the habit of thinking before he talked, especially when caught by surprise, and so he answered the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh fuck the hell yes!"

"Jan!" Integra called so sternly that he relented.

"Oh fuck the hell no!" and slithered back in line.

"Come now!" Anderson's patience was almost spent. "Surely one of ye would like to be a pirate; you!" he pointed to Walter, "Ye are the most talented of the lost boys, even compared to Alucard! Wouldn't thou like tae join a crew where yer talents will be put to good use, instead o' being squandered away faer a captain that barely knows you exist, except tae punish you faer looking too much like him?"

"How is he getting all this information?" Jan whispered to Pip, who only shrugged.

Integra had expected Walter to say "no" immediately, and was much scandelised when he did not.

"What would you make of me if I join?" Walter inquired.

"Water!"

"An altar boy."

"Too simple," he said boredly.

"Aye, but with your talents, you would soar through the ranks in no time at all, and be as regarded as Yumie and Heinkel."

Walter was naturally impressed. "High as Yumie and Heinkel, eh? And shall we still be respectful subjects of the King?"

Through Anderson's clenched teeth came the answer: "Never. You would have to swear, 'Down with the King.'"

Perhaps Walter had not behaved very well so far, but he shone out now.

"Then I refuse," he cried, banging the barrel in front of Anderson.

"And I refuse," cried Pip.

"Rule Britannia!" squeaked the twins.

The infuriated pirates buffeted them in the mouth; and Anderson roared out, "That seals your doom. Tie up their mother. Get the plank ready."

The pirates went to do just that, and tied up the boys before they could fly away. This left Anderson alone to approach Integra, who was all ice.

"So, my beauty," said Anderson, as if he spoke in syrup, "yer to see your children walk the plank."

Fine gentleman though he was, his conduct toward her that evening had revealed the thinly concealed malice in his heart, the one we have mention in which he kept locked so thoroughly in place with a bayonet and a shroud of good form. But his poor form in dealing with her had rent the shroud away, however briefly, and suddenly he knew that she was gazing at it. With a hasty gesture he tried to hide it, but he was too late.

"Are they to die?" asked Integra, with a look of such frightful contempt that he nearly fainted.

"They are," he snarled. "Silence all," he called gloatingly, "for a mother's last words to her children."

At this moment Integra was grand. "These are my last words, dear boys," she said firmly. "I feel that I have a message to you from your real mothers, and it is this: 'We hope our sons will die like English gentlemen.'"

Even the pirates were awed, and Luke cried out hysterically, "I am going to do what my mother hopes. What are you to do, Pip?"

"What my mother hopes. What are you to do, Twin?"

"What my mother hopes. Jan, what are-"

But Anderson had found his voice again.

"Tie her up!" he shouted.

It was Yumiko who tied her to the mast. "See here, honey," she whispered, "I'll save you if you promise to convert."

But not even for Yumiko would she make such a promise. "I would almost rather burn in Hell," she said disdainfully.

It is sad to know that not a boy was looking at her as Yumiko tied her to the mast; the eyes of all were on the plank: that last little walk they were about to take. They were no longer able to hope that they would walk it manfully, for the capacity to think had gone from them; they could stare and shiver only.

Anderson smiled on them with his teeth exposed, and took a step toward Integra. His intention was to turn her face so that she should see the boys walking the plank one by one. But he never reached her, he never heard the cry of anguish he hoped to wring from her. He heard something else instead.

It was the terrible tick-tick of the crocodile.

They all heard it – pirates, boys, Integra – and immediately every head was blown in one direction; not to the water whence the sound proceeded, but toward Anderson. All knew that what was about to happen concerned him alone, and that from being actors they were suddenly become spectators.

The sound came steadily nearer; and in advance of it came this ghastly thought, "The crocodile is below the ship!"

Very frightful was it to see the change that came over him. It was as if he had been darkened at every joint. He looked truly possessed.

He turned to Integra, his face covered completely in shadows, so that the glint of his glasses and teeth was all to be seen.

Perhaps it was because her Death was so near that he took the tick-ticking to mean the end of her life, and not his, but he said: "It seems the croc is ticking for you."

But Integra did not flinch as she had before. She looked through the white sheen and straight into Anderson's eyes, and said: "It ticks for thee."

Anderson laughed at this; a booming, bellowing laugh that left all other laughs before it to shame.

"The Captain has gone mad," Yumiko whispered to Heinkel, who did not have the heart to correct her.

Abruptly, Anderson said in a voice that was cold and sharp as iron, "If ye're so sure, ye may see faer yerself."

Even the iron blade in his hand could not cut so deep as the malice in his voice, and still more the cogs that turned in his brain. Left so fearfully alone, any other woman would have lain with her eyes shut where she fell: but Integra was the leader of the Hellsing Organization, master of the lost boys and the enemy of the _Iscariot_. Even in her most dire hour, Integra would not consent to show weakness before the villainous cur that would take her life and the lives of those she loved. She maintained eye contact with Anderson, until it was he who was forced to look away.

But did that break Anderson? Oh no; the gigantic brain of Anderson was still working, and under its guidance he walked smoothly along the deck as far from the sound as he could go. The pirates respectfully cleared a passage for him, and it was only when he brought up against the bulwarks that he spoke.

"Send her overboard!" he bellowed.

However reluctantly, pirates gathered to obey their captain's orders. Integra did not put up a vain resistance, for she was far too proud for that. She was the leader of the lost boys, who were currently clutching her skirt and tearfully saying their goodbyes (except for Luke; Luke is that one in every group that loses all self-control in times of tragedy and wails loudly), and she would die as a leader for her servants; it was enough.

Though she put on a brave face when she was tied, and stood tall and walked proudly on the plank, I must confess, when her back was facing the ship so that no one could see her face, she allowed a single tear to trickle down her cheek. But we cannot blame Integra for this moment of weakness; she was a little girl, after all.

Integra stepped off the plank, and all the pirates had their ears at the ready.

To their great surprise, they heard nothing. Not a splash. Not a scream.

Not even a tick.


	14. Anderson or Me This Time

Author's Notes: I was originally going to group this with the last chapter, but then I was in such a hurry to get something posted that I forgot. So, like the Never Bird, this is going to be a short chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan or Hellsing.

* * *

Odd things happen to all of us on our way through life without our noticing for a time that they have happened. Thus, to take an instance, we suddenly discover that we have been deaf in one ear for we don't know how long, but, say, half an hour. Now such an experience had come that night to Alucard. When last we saw him he was stealing across the island with one finger to his lips and his dagger at the ready. He had seen the crocodile pass by without noticing anything peculiar about it, but by and by he remembered that it had not been ticking. At first he thought this eerie, but soon concluded rightly that the clock had run down.

Without giving a thought to what might be the feelings of a fellow-creature this abruptly deprived of its closest companion, Alucard began to consider how he could turn the catastrophe to his own use; and he decided to tick, so that wild beasts should believe he was the crocodile and let him pass unmolested. He ticked superbly, but with one unforeseen result. The crocodile was among those who heard the sound, and it followed him, though whether with the purpose of regaining what it had lost, or merely as a friend under the belief that it was again ticking itself, will never be certainly known, for, like slaves to a fixed idea, it was a stupid beast.

Alucard reached the shore without mishap, and went straight on, his legs encountering the water as if quite unaware that they had entered a new element. Thus many animals pass from land to water, but no other human of whom I know. As he swam he had but one thought: "Anderson or me this time." He had ticked so long that he now went on ticking without knowing that he was doing it. Had he known he would have stopped, for to board the brig by help of the tick, though an ingenious idea, had not occurred to him.

On the contrary, he thought he had scaled her side as noiseless as a mouse; and he was amazed to hear the pirates cowering from him, with Anderson in their midst as abject as if he had heard the crocodile.

The crocodile! No sooner did Alucard remember it than he heard the ticking. At first he thought the sound did come from the crocodile, and he looked behind him swiftly. They he realized that he was doing it himself, and in a flash he understood the situation. "How clever of me!" he thought at once, and had to contain himself from crowing.

It was at this moment that he noticed Integra forced to walk the plank, and his first thought was to board the ship with his dagger and forbid the proceedings.

But then he thought that Integra would be delightfully surprised if he caught her, and so he waited at the water below to do just that, ticking on.

Of course she was very surprised to be caught, and, seeing Alucard, she would have cried out in delight, but Alucard put a finger to his lips so that she would be silent.

This was very wise, for no sooner had the ticking stopped did the pirates sputter and wonder and look over the deck to see why there had been no sound.

"No splash!" they cried.

"No scream!"

"No tick!"

"What has become of Integra and the crocodile?"

But only Alucard and Integra knew the answer at present, as they hid below the ship. Integra was untied and her arms were around Alucard, who held her quite as if she were a bride. They smiled, and pressed their foreheads together in silent laughter, and set out toward the main mast with Rip Van Winkle in tow, creating a shimmering blue light that went unnoticed by the crew.

"The ship is bewitched!" wailed poor Yumiko.

Gentleman Heinkel, who wanted to ease pathetic Yumiko's fears, approached their captain calmly.

"No splash, Father," she said, quite reasonably to Anderson.

But Anderson had all he could take that night, so that his nerves were strung more tightly than the strings of a harpsichord, wherein one pluck could burst it outright, and Heinkel's statement had been the pluck that burst his nerves.

"So, you want a splash, Gentleman Heinkel?" he asked pleasantly; and then his fresh spring eyes were filled with white. "I'LL GIVE YOU A SPLASH!"

And he threw Heinkel overboard in a blink.

"One," Luke whispered under his breath.

The crew gasped in horror, for Anderson had never done anything of the sort to one of his own before. He had gone mad!

"Who's next?" Anderson demanded, brandishing his bayonets.

"YOU'RE NEXT, ANDERSON!" a voice rang from above, and all eyes turned first to each other, then up to the main mast where Alucard stood! "And this time you've gone too far!"

The boys cheered, not just because their beloved captain was back, but because their master Integra was safe, too.

The pirates were rightfully terrified, but Anderson only grinned in grim triumph.

"And who has the authority to make such a statement, boy?" was the nasty question.

"Alucard the avenger!" came the terrible answer; and as he spoke Alucard unsheathed his dagger.

Then they all knew who 'twas that had rescued Integra without making a sound, and twice Anderson essayed to speak and twice he failed. In that frightful moment I think his fierce heart broke.

At last he cried, "Do away with him!" but without conviction. His plan had twice failed, and Alucard had shown him up twice more than I think he could bear.

Alucard knew this, I'm sure, and took the opportunity to crow in triumph.

"Down, boys, and at them!" Alucard's voice rang out; and in another moment the clash of arms was resounding through the ship. The boys were untied and immediately they began to fight. Had the pirates kept together it is certain that they would have won; but the onset came when they were still unstrung, and they ran hither and thither, striking wildly, each thinking himself the last survivor of the crew. Man to man they were the stronger; but they fought on the defensive only, which enabled the boys to hunt in pairs and choose their quarry. Some of the miscreants leapt into the sea; others hid in dark recesses, where they were found by Integra, who did not fight, but ran about with a lantern which she flashed in their faces, so that they were half blinded and fell as an easy prey to the reeking swords of her boys, whom she directed in battle. There was little sound to be heard but the clang of weapons, an occasional screech or splash, and Luke monotonously counting—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten—eleven.

I think all were gone when a group of savage boys surrounded Anderson, who seemed to have a charmed life, as he kept them at bay in that circle of fire. They had done for his dogs, but this man alone seemed to be a match for them all. Again and again they closed upon him, and again and again he hewed a clear space. He had lifted up one boy with his bayonets, and was using him as a buckler, when another, who had just passed his sword through Mullins, sprang into the fray.

"Put up your swords, boys," cried the newcomer, "this man is mine."

Thus suddenly Anderson found himself face to face with Alucard. The others drew back and formed a ring around them.

For long the two enemies looked at one another, Anderson shuddering slightly, and Alucard with the strange smile upon his face.

"So, Alucard," said Anderson at last, "this is all your doing."

"Ay, Alexander Anderson," came the stern answer, "it is all my doing."

"Proud and insolent youth," said Anderson, "prepare to meet thy doom."

"Dark and sinister man," Alucard answered, "have at thee."

Without more words they fell to, and for a space there was no advantage to either blade. Alucard was a superb swordsman, and parried with dazzling rapidity; ever and anon he followed up a feint with a lunge that got past his foe's defense, but his shorter reach stood him in ill stead, and he could not drive the steel home. Anderson, scarcely his inferior in brilliancy, but not quite so nimble in wrist play, forced him back by the weight of his onset, hoping suddenly to end all with a favourite thrust, taught him long ago by the Pope at Rio de Janeiro; but to his astonishment he found this thrust turned aside again and again. Then he sought to close and give the quietus with his iron hook, which all this time had been pawing the air; but Alucard doubled under it and, lunging fiercely, pierced him in the ribs. At the sight of his own blood, whose peculiar colour, you remember, was offensive to him, the sword fell from Anderson's hand, and he was at Alucard's mercy.

"Now!" cried all the boys, but with a magnificent gesture Alucard invited his opponent to pick up his sword. Anderson did so instantly, but with a tragic feeling that Alucard was showing good form.

Hitherto he had thought it was some fiend fighting him, but darker suspicions assailed him now.

"Boy, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily.

"I'm youth, I'm joy," Alucard answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg."

This, of course, was nonsense; but it was proof to the unhappy Anderson that Alucard did not know in the least who or what he was, which is the very pinnacle of good form.

"To't again," he cried despairingly.

He fought now like a human flail, and every sweep of that terrible sword would have severed in twain any man or boy who obstructed it; but Alucard fluttered round him as if the very wind it made blew him out of the danger zone. And again and again he darted in and pricked.

Anderson was fighting now without hope. That passionate breast no longer asked for life; but for one boon it craved: to see Alucard show bad form before it was cold forever.

Abandoning the fight he rushed into the powder magazine and fired it.

"In two minutes," he cried, "the ship will be blown to pieces."

Now, now, he thought, true form will show.

But Alucard issued from the powder magazine with the shell in his hands, and calmly flung it overboard.

What sort of form was Anderson himself showing? Misguided man though he was, we may be glad, without sympathizing with him, that in the end he was true to the traditions of his race. The other boys were flying around him now, flouting, scornful; and he staggered about the deck striking up at them impotently, his mind was no longer with them; it was slouching in the praying fields of long ago, or being sent up for good, or watching the wall-game from a famous wall. And his boots were right, and his cassock was right, and his collar was right, and his socks were right.

Alexander Anderson, thou not wholly unholy figure, farewell.

For we have come to the moment when he quite lost his mind.

It was when he was being flouted and jeered at by the boys when Anderson, truly black with despair, and with no hope to keep him going, saw Integra with her light. I supposed Anderson, who was so far in the dark that any sort of light seemed abhorrent to him, found that he could not abide the girl and charged at her in a pure, animalistic, savage rage. This was much unexpected, even for Integra, who screamed and dropped her lantern when she saw him coming, which snuffed out. Anderson threw dozens of bayonets in her direction, two for each limb and her heart and one for her head, but Alucard swooped in, as he always did, and carried her away before the bayonets could hit their mark. Of course, it was very marvelous how he did it, but his rescue created a spark of hope in desperate Anderson that lit a terrible idea in the deepest pits of his twisted mind.

Alucard was showing good form, he thought, then let that good form be his downfall!

"Of course," he said out loud, "The girl would flee from the battle like a coward."

Integra was very affronted, and cried indignantly, "Coward! Me?"

Alucard pulled out his sword angrily, and Anderson knew his bayonet had hit its mark. He laughed a very wicked, mocking laugh. "Of course! You wouldn't dare fight me like the true leader that you claim to be, you would just have your servant fly you away like a coward!"

Alucard, who could not abide Integra being insulted, even for a second, shouted, "Nobody calls Integra a coward who lives! I'll fight you in her stead, with one hand behind my back!"

These were just the words Anderson wanted to hear, advancing upon them, he struck with his bayonet, but Alucard held up his sword to block the thrust with only one arm. Right where Anderson wanted him.

"True, but Integra cannot fly," he said.

"Then neither will I," was the answer.

Integra cried loudly, "No, don't Alcuard! It's a trick!"

But even Alucard would not obey Integra in this matter. "I give my word!" he told Anderson, and the fight was on again.

It was a terrible fight for Alucard, who did indeed keep his word, and fought one-handed without flying. Worse, he and Anderson were up on the main mast at this time, so falling would mean Alucard's doom as well as Anderson's. Even at the best of their abilities, both were at the height of good form, Alucard and Anderson were quite evenly matched. But without the advantage of duel-handed fight or flight, with Anderson so much bigger and stronger than young Alucard could ever be, the advantage was quite tipped in Anderson's favour, and he knew it. It was only a matter of time, I'm afraid, before Anderson had Alucard disarmed and backing away from the point of his bayonet.

"Insolent youth, prepare to die!"

"Fly, fly Alucard," Integra commanded, "Fly!"

"No!" Alucard cried, even then, "I gave my word!"

What is a word to Alucard? But he knew such things were important to Integra, who never backed down even when her dignity was on the line, so he could not back down when he was fighting in her stead. But Alucard quickly saw another way to fight that would not break Integra's code of honour, and before Anderson could blink, Alucard had wrapped him in his own flag and taken his bayonet. "You're mine!"

The lost boys cheered loudly below, and Integra among them, and they felt sure that Alucard would do away with Anderson for good.

"Cleave him to the brisket!" Pip cried, and Integra embraced him.

But Anderson was too thoroughly humiliated by that point; he had no more fight left in him, and no more desire to live at all.

Seeing Alucard slowly advancing upon him through the air with bayonet poised, he sprang upon the bulwarks to cast himself into the sea. He did not know that the crocodile was waiting for him; for we purposely stopped the clock that this knowledge might be spared him: a little mark of respect from us at the end.

He had one last triumph, which I think we need not grudge him. As he stood on the bulwark looking over his shoulder at Alucard gliding through the air, he invited him with a gesture to use his foot. It made Alucard kick instead of stab.

At last Anderson had got the boon for which he craved.

"Bad form," he cried jeeringly, and went content to the crocodile.

Thus perished Alexander Anderson.

"Seventeen," Luke sang out; but he was not quite correct in his figures. Fifteen paid the penalty for their crimes that night; but two reached the shore: Heinkel to be captured by the natives, who made her nurse for all their papooses, a melancholy come-down for a pirate; and Yumiko, who henceforth wandered about the world in her spectacles, making a peaceful living by spreading the teachings of Catholicism without trying to bully or coerce; until she encountered Heinkel along her journey, but that is a tale for another time.

Integra, of course, had stood by taking no part in the fight, except to give orders and battle strategies where they were needed, and saved more than one boy from certain death by doing so; but now that all was over she became passive again. She praised them equally, and shuddered delightfully when Jan showed her the place where he had killed one; and then she took them into Anderson's cabin and pointed to his watch which was hanging on a nail. It said "half-past one!"

The lateness of the hour was almost the biggest thing of all. She got them to bed in the pirates' bunks pretty quickly, you may be sure; all but Alucard, who strutted up and down on the deck, until at last he fell asleep by the side of Harkonnen Cannon. He had one of his dreams that night, and cried in his sleep for a long time, and Integra held him tightly.


	15. The Return Home

Author's Notes: I've gone back and fixed all spelling and grammar errors that were not intentional from past chapters.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan. I do not make any money off of any of it.

* * *

By three bells that morning they were all stirring their stumps; for there was a big sea running; and Walter, the bo'sun, was among them, with a rope's end in his hand and chewing tobacco. They all donned pirate clothes cut off at the knee, shaved smartly, and tumbled up, with the true nautical roll and hitching their trousers.

It need not be said who was the captain. Pip and Walter were first and second mate.

"And why can't I be the captain, exactly, Alucard?" Integra demanded peevishly.

"Because, Integra, you are the passenger."

"Passenger?" she was greatly taken aback. "But Alucard—that is, Captain Vlad?"

He had taken to being called that. When Integra addressed him as such, he answered with a gallant bow, "At your service, ma'am."

"Would you mind telling me where we're sailing?"

"To London, ma'am."

Integra was beside herself with joy. She thought Alucard had accepted her choice at last.

"Oh Alucard," she whispered dreamily, and then she ran to tell the boys the good news.

Though they were gruff, tumbling ruffians to each other, they treated Integra with utmost politeness. There was a woman aboard. The rest were tars before the mast, and lived in the fo'c'sle. Alucard had already lashed himself to the wheel; but he piped all hands and delivered a short address to them; said he hoped they would do their duty like gallant hearties, but that he knew they were the scum of Rio and the Gold Coast, and if they snapped at him he would tear them. The bluff strident words struck the note sailors understood, and they cheered him lustily. Then a few sharp orders were given, and they turned the ship round, and nosed her for the mainland.

Captain Vlad calculated, after consulting the ship's chart, that if this weather lasted they should strike the Azores about the 21st of June, after which it would save time to fly.

Some of them wanted it to be an honest ship and others were in favour of keeping it a pirate; but the captain treated them as dogs, and they dared not express their wishes to him even in a round robin. Instant obedience was the only safe thing. Luke got a dozen for looking perplexed when told to take soundings. The general feeling was that Alucard was honest just now to lull Integra's suspicions.

Instead of watching the ship, however, we must now return to that desolate mansion from which three of our characters had taken flight so long ago. It seems a shame to have neglected the Hellsing Manor all this time; and yet we may be sure that no neglect of ours could ever trump that left by Richard.

It turns out that Richard was an incompetent leader. Though he had thrown what is the equivalent of an adult's temper tantrum over Integra inheriting over him and rudely snatched the estate away from her to have it for himself, he really was inept at taking care of it, and the Hellsing Manor was all but in ruins by the time Integra came back. Richard was a man of impeccable tastes, and now his outcome greatly exceeded his income, and the estate was on the verge of bankruptcy.

Worse still, was the paranoia of Integra returning; he had seen her fly away with a strange boy that fateful night, and felt sure that he had gone mad or she had been possessed or both. If, what he had seen was correct (which he highly dreaded), then Integra was still out there, and could return at any time with the authorities. Richard hated the authorities. He felt sure they would believe the seductive tears of a malicious girl before they would believe a respectable gentleman, as he felt sure he was, and he felt sure every night that he would hear the door bell ring to announce their presence at his door. At every ring, he would jump.

To ease himself of his fears, Richard convinced himself that Integra would not go to the authorities, for why would the authorities believe her? A little girl does not inherit the estate of a proud manor, and legally the Hellsing Estate should be his, her father's surviving brother; surely no one would believe that he would try to murder her for that?

But then, he thought, supposing she did not go to the authorities? Supposing she had gathered the followers he had fired from the mansion the night she flew away, or sought the assistance of private mercenaries somewhere to kill him in his sleep? Suppose she was out there right now, biding her time, waiting to perform a hostile takeover of the mansion from him the way he had done for her?

Ah, a conscience is a terrible thing to have.

Because of his fears, Richard had taken to drinking, imagining in the long lonely nights that every shadow had snuck in for the sole purpose to kill him, and every flicker of light a bullet intent on piercing his heart. To combat the bullet, he had always stayed in his office with a loaded gun by his desk, ready to shoot any intruder that made it past his personal guards.

"Sir, there is nothing to fear," his guards had assured him, "If she did survive, there is no one who will believe her."

"She had not a friend in the world," they said, "save the dog you have tied in the basement."

"He is a greater danger to you than any force outside of this manor, and he may aid her if she returns. You ought to put him down now."

But Richard was unwilling to do that.

"Imbeciles!" he cried, and slammed his fist on the table so hard that his drink fell to the floor and shattered. "That contemptible beast is the only thing Integra values as an ally! She would do _anything_ to keep him from being killed!"

"If she truly cared for him, why did she leave?"

"For reinforcements, of course!" Richard cried, his eyes not unlike Anderson's in a craze, "That cursed hound is the only reason she does not return, to assure his safety! Well, I intend to play her paranoia like a harpsichord! She shall try to rescue him, of course, and I shall have him in the nursery! When she flies through the nursery window to demand the estate, she will see him surrounded by guards, who shall inform her that his life rests on the trigger of a gun, and she shall back down immediately. She will be helpless! She shall never see it coming!"

The guards thought him mad, but they obeyed with misgivings.

As to the whereabouts of the Captain, I am sure you do not need me to explain for you.

Yes, the Captain was having a miserable time of it, I can assure you. Though he had done his best to protect Integra, he had been tricked and overwhelmed by Richard, who had him locked in the basement and chained to his kennel. Of course he had escaped, but he was too late to assure her of his safety and she had flown away into the night with a strange young boy rather than fulfill her duties as a master to reclaim her mansion.

She would have stayed, he was sure, if she had seen him. It was that devil Alucard that had lured her away and intended to keep her for all of time, just as he had done with Sir Arthur, Sir Hugh and Sir Shelby many years ago. But they had always come back, and girls were far more sensible than boys; so he knew she would return.

The only question was _when_ she would return?

The Captain had faith that his charge would fly home, and so he allowed himself to be chained up a second time and kept in the kennel while he waited for Integra to return. He knew that she would come back to reclaim her mansion, and he wanted to be there to support her once she did, however odious he found the whole ordeal. There was nothing to do in the kennel but eat and sleep and ignore the occasional taunt from Richard and the guards, who once did it quite often but grew bored from his lack of response, and so he spent most of his time sleeping; and while he slept, Integra flew into the room.

Oh no. We have written it so, because that was the charming arrangement planned by them before we left the ship; but something must have happened since then, for it is not they who have flown in, it is Alucard and Rip Van Winkle.

They made short work of the guards that patrolled the nursery, and saw the wolf chained to the kennel.

Alucard's first words tell all.

"Quick Rip," he whispered, "kill the wolf; pelt it! That's right. Now you and I must get away by the door; and when Integra comes she will think her nurse has been killed because of her; and she will have no reason to stay and will have to go back with me."

Now I understand what had hitherto puzzled me, why when Alucard had exterminated the pirates he did not return to the island and leave Rip to escort the children to the mainland. This trick had been in his head all the time.

Instead of feeling that he was behaving badly he danced with glee; then he peeped into the kennel to see who was to die. He whispered to Rip, "It's Integra's nurse! He is a handsome wolf, but not so handsome as the whelp that I shall adopt for Integra. His mouth is full of fangs, but not so full as my wolf shall be when I find him!"

Alucard spoke as though he had never met the Captain before. I'm sure he thought that he didn't, for he often forgot those he had met; but the fact is this is the same nurse that kept him from taking Integra the first time. This was the same nurse that kept him from taking her every time.

The Captain was not frightened. He only looked at Rip with reproaching eyes.

Alucard cried exultantly, "You will never see Integra again, wolf, for you shall be dead!"

Rip Van Winkle would not charge the wolf, however, for his firm glare held her fast.

Alucard peeped into the kennel again to see why Rip had stopped, and now he saw that the Captain had laid his head on his paw, and those two red eyes were piercing his.

"He wants us to spare his life," whispered Alucard, "but I won't, not I!"

He raised his dagger, and the eyes were still there, and somehow he could not bring himself to do it.

"He's awfully fond of Integra," he said to himself. He was angry with the wolf now for not seeing why he could not have Integra.

The reason was so simple: "I'm fond of her too. We can't both have her, wolf."

But the wolf would not make the best of it, and he was unhappy. He ceased to look at him, but even then he would not let go of him. He skipped about and made funny faces, but when he stopped it was just as if he were inside him, clawing.

"Oh, all right," he said at last, and gulped. Then he lowered the dagger. "Come on, Rip," he cried, with a frightful sneer at the wolf, and he flew away.

Thus Integra and the lost boys found the window open for them after all. They alighted on the floor, quite unashamed of themselves, and the youngest one had already forgotten this was not his home.

"Integra," he said, looking around him doubtfully, "I think I have been here before."

"Of course you haven't, you silly. There is my old bed."

"So it is," the younger Twin said, but not with much conviction.

"I say," cried Walter, "the kennel!" and he dashed across to look into it.

"Perhaps the Captain is inside it," Integra said.

But Jan whistled. "Hullo," he said, "there's a wolf inside it."

"It's the Captain!" exclaimed Integra.

"Let me see the wolf," Pip begged eagerly, and they all took a good look.

Integra and Walter, who always scored the highest on her quizzes, had been taken aback somewhat at finding her nurse in the kennel.

"Surely," said Walter, like one who does not wish to be an impolite guest, "he used not to sleep in the kennel?"

"Walter," Integra said falteringly, "perhaps I don't remember the old life as well as I thought I did."

A chill fell upon her; and serve her right.

The Captain opened his eyes and looked evenly at Integra, as though to say, "It took you long enough to return."

This broke Integra. She wept openly and threw her arms around the Captain's neck, and cried into his fur and told him again and again how sorry she was and how she should have returned home sooner. The Captain did not move while she cried, but simply let her weep until the tears ran out, and when she had finished he gave a single lick of her cheek to let her know that she was forgiven.

Thus ended the heart-felt reunion between the nurse and his charge.

But what was to be done about the usurper Richard and his goons?

The answer came later on that night when Richard was alone in his brother's study. He had been drinking again, as he usually did when his fears got the better of him, and his fears tended to increase when there was no one around. The staff had long gone to bed, with only Richard frightful enough to stay on alert. It seemed that every creak was Integra stepping out to denounce him, every shadow out to expose him, every flick of the candle a spit in his direction and every wink of the younger stars a mirthful laugh that exclaimed, "You're going to get it!"

He reached into his desk drawer to pull out a gun to reassure himself, and while the staff often called him mad for finding danger in every little flicker and movement, tonight Richard's fears proved correct when a small gust of wind fluttered the curtains and Integra emerged from behind them, accompanied by the strange boy he saw her fly away with that fateful night, each staring confidently at him.

He saw them, and he should have been terrified, but part of him did not believe they were there. You see, he saw them so often in his nightmares that he thought this was just the dream hanging around him still.

"Hello, Uncle," Integra said.

"So you have returned after all," he sneered, "The great head of the Hellsing Family Estate can finally be arsed to return, can she?"

"That's right," Sir Integra said, and she folded her legs on her father's chair, "I have returned. Now you must step down, Uncle."

"I shall not!" he cried, "The Hellsing Estate is mine! I own it! I own it! I'm the eldest, it is mine by right!"

"It is not yours," Integra said, "Father left the estate to me."

"He shouldn't have!" Richard cried, "You are not a boy!"

"All the more reason to," Alucard said, "For girls are far more clever than boys. What do you think, boys?"

The lost boys emerged from all over the room, from behind desks and chairs and potted plants, and they all pointed their bows and arrows at Richard. Having never seen such boys in his nightmares before, Richard realized that he was not dreaming, and was greatly terrified.

"I think that girls are far more clever than boys," Pip said, "What do you think, Twin?"

"I think so too. What do you think, Luke?"

"I think they are. What do you think, Walter?"

"Integra would make a far more suitable leader than you."

"No she wouldn't!" Richard cried, and went to flee the room, "It is my mansion! It is my right!"

But the Captain stood in his path, hunkered over, his hackles raised, his eyes red, and his teeth bared, growling menacingly. Richard could not flee the study as the wolf blocked the door, and the lost boys blocked all the windows, and Integra sat at his desk. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, except to reach for the gun.

"Keep your hands where I can see them, dastardly villain," Alucard demanded, with his sword raised.

But Richard had fallen too far off the deep end to see or hear from the other side.

"H-Hellsing is mine..." he said slowly, and pulled the gun on her, "It's mine!"

He shot Integra point-blank in the face, but Alucard extended his arm to block the bullet, and did not flinch from the impact.

"You are a codfish," Alucard said, "A cowardly codfish, worse than Anderson! You are unfit to lead the Hellsing Estate."

"I never thought he was fit to lead the Hellsing Estate," Pip said, "What do you think, Luke?"

"I don't think he's fit at all. What do you think, Walter?"

"Barely adequate. What do you think, Twin?"

None of the lost boys thought Richard was fit to lead the Hellsing Estate, and they were about to draw their arrows on him.

I suppose it would have shamed Richard far more than the Hellsing Estate that he had worked so hard to steal from a little girl being re-stolen from him by the said same little girl, to know that the last sound the neighbors heard of him a scream like that of a little girl.


	16. When Integra Grew Up

Author's Notes: I've struggled with this last chapter for years because I didn't know how to realistically end it happily. Truth is, I really don't want to struggle over it anymore. I just want to get the final chapter posted for completion's sake. If you're disappointed with the ending, then I might be able to write an alternative ending for those who wish it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan. I have, however, grown up.

* * *

It only took a few days to reclaim the mansion. Richard had allowed things to fall into such disarray that most of the staff welcomed any sort of authorative change, so that when Integra stepped forward to reclaim the estate that was rightfully hers, they did not object too strongly. Of course, this did not matter as those that had stood by Richard were dismissed and then blacklisted from any other job and so had to try their fortune overseas, and those that had not supported him stayed on board as though nothing had ever changed.

Integra sent letters to her father's old business associates, and they were so delighted by her growth as a leader that they pledged to support her forever after. Only Sir Irons did not welcome her back with a hearty handshake; yet he was the first to respond to her letter. In fact, he responded within the hour, and called upon her the next day. He looked over her with critical eyes, and for the first time since her return, Integra felt small and dirty.

"So, you have finally returned," Sir Irons said when they met in person.

"Indeed, I have," Sir Integra said, with her hands behind her back and her eyes cast down bashfully. At the nudge of the Captain, Integra stood up straight and looked him in the eye.

"I have learned a lot about being a leader overseas," Integra said, without flinching, "But I still have much to learn about running an estate, and I hope you shall help me in the months to come."

For the first time since she could remember, Sir Irons smiled. "I shall be delighted, for the daughter of Arthur."

They shook hands over the gentlemen's agreement, and from that day on Sir Irons remained her most trusted advisor.

I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. They were waiting below to give Integra time to explain about them; and when they had counted five hundred they went up to the study. They went up by the stair, because they thought this would make a better impression. They stood in a row in front of Sir Irons, with their hats off, and wishing they were not wearing their pirate clothes. They said nothing, but their eyes asked him to have them.

Of course Integra said at once that she would find homes for them; but Sir Irons was curiously stern, and they saw that he considered six a rather large number.

"I must say," he said to Integra, "that you don't do things by halves," a grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed at them.

The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, "Do you think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because, if so, we can go away."

"Sir Irons!" Integra cried, shocked; but still the cloud was on him. He knew he was behaving unfairly, but he could not help it.

"We could lie doubled up," said Pip.

"I always cut their hair myself," said Integra.

Then he sighed heavily, and the truth came out. He was as glad to have them as she was, he said, but he was not sure he could get all of them adopted.

"I hope you don't think me a cypher," he said to Integra.

"I don't think he is a cypher," Pip cried instantly. "Do you think he is a cypher, Jan?"

"Fuck no! Do you think he is a cypher, Walter?"

"Rather not. Twin, what do you think?"

It turned out that not one of them thought him a cypher; and he was rather gratified, and said he would find space for them all in the drawing-room in the mean time if they fitted in.

"We'll fit in, sir," they assured him.

"Then follow the leader," he said pleasantly. "Mind you, I am not sure where the drawing-room is, but we shall search until we find it. Hoop la!"

He went off searching through the mansion, and they all cried "Hoop la!" and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room; and I forget whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners, and they all fitted in. Integra, for her part, was proud that they had found Sir Irons' inner child at last, however briefly it shined.

As for Alucard, he saw Integra once again before he flew away. He did not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing so that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That is what she did.

"Hullo, Integra, good-bye," he said.

"Oh dear, are you going away?"

"Yes."

"You don't feel, Alucard," she said falteringly, "that you would like to say anything to Sir Irons about a very sweet subject?"

"No."

"About me, Alucard?"

"No."

Sir Irons came to the window, for at present he was keeping a sharp eye on Integra. He told Alucard that he had arranged to find parents to adopt all the other boys, and would like to adopt him out also.

"Would they send me to school?" he inquired craftily.

"Yes."

"And then to an office?"

"I suppose so."

"Soon I would be a man?"

"Very soon."

"I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things," he told them passionately. "I don't want to be a man. O Sir Irons, if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!"

"Alucard," said Integra the comforter, "I should love you in a beard"; and Sir Irons stretched out his hand to him, but he repulsed the man.

"Keep back, old man, no one is going to catch me and make me a man like you."

"But where are you going to live?"

"With Rip in the house we built for Integra. The fairies are to put it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights."

"How lovely," cried Integra so longingly that Sir Iron tightened his grip.

"I thought all the fairies were dead," Sir Irons said.

"There are always a lot of young ones," explained Integra, who was now quite an authority, "because you see when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are."

Rip answered impudently to this and flew away.

"I shall have such fun," said Alucard, with eye on Integra.

"It will be rather lonely in the evening," she said, "sitting by the fire."

"I shall have Rip."

"Rip can't go a twentieth part of the way round," she reminded him a little tartly.

"Sneaky tell-tale!" Rip called out from round the corner.

"It doesn't matter," Alucard said.

"O Alucard, you know it matters."

"Well, then, come with me to the little house."

"May I, Sir Irons?"

"Certainly not. You have returned home again, and now it is your duty to remain."

"But he does so need looking after."

"So does this estate, my dear."

"Oh, all right," Alucard said, as if he had asked her from politeness merely; but Sir Irons saw his mouth twitch, and knew that if Alucard had his way the madness would begin again, and so he made this handsome offer: to let Integra go to him for a week every year to do his spring cleaning. Integra would have preferred a more permanent arrangement; and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming; but this promise sent Alucard away quite gay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him is only a halfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Integra knew this that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:

"Don't forget me, Alucard, before spring cleaning time comes."

Of course Alucard promised; and then he flew away. He took Integra's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else, Alucard took quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.

Of course all the boys were adopted out to Sir Irons' business associates—all but Walter, who insisted on staying in the Hellsing mansion as Integra's butler—and went to school; and most of them got into Class III, but Luke was put first into Class IV and then into Class V. Class I is the top class. Before they had attended school a week they saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island; but it was too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins minor. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradually left them. At first their parents tied their feet to the bed-posts so that they should not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions by day was to pretend to fall off buses; but by and by they ceased to tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when they let go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed.

Walter believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at him; so he was with Integra when Alucard came for her early the first year. It is a good thing he did, for he would have been late otherwise. She flew away with Alucard in the frock she had woven from leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice how short it was becoming; but he never noticed, he had so much to say about himself.

She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.

"Who is Father Anderson?" he asked with interest when she spoke of the arch enemy.

"Don't you remember," she asked, amazed, "how you killed him and saved all our lives?"

"I forget them after I kill them," he replied carelessly.

When she expressed a doubtful hope that Rip Van Winkle would be glad to see her he said, "Who is Rip Van Winkle?"

"O Alucard," she said, shocked; but even when she explained he could not remember.

"There are such a lot of them," he said. "I expect she has moved on."

I expect he was right, for fairies don't stay in one place long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them.

Integra was pained too to find that the past year was but as yesterday to Alucard; it had seemed quite a long time of waiting to her. She broached the subject of a more frequent arrangement - err, but not too often, as she was quite busy with the mansion and simply could not get away for too long. They discussed a great deal over what should be done, but in the end they decided on spring cleaning and autumn harvest. Twice a year seemed so much more bearable than once that Integra felt a great ease of mind, and she was able to enjoy their visit. He was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely "spring" cleaning in the little house on the tree tops-though because Alucard was early, it was more like winter wrap-up.

Next year he arrived with a new companion that put Integra in quite a huff. It was Seras Victoria, the picaninny* of the Millennium War Tribe! Integra could barely suppress her indignation at being greeted after being kept waiting half a year by the sight of Alucard holding the little savage like a bride. Alucard explained quite gaily that Millennium had declared war on him and then turned on Seras when she tried to remain loyal. They had hunted her down with one of the Witch Doctor's vampires into a church that was built by Yumiko, and would have surely killed her if Alucard had not swooped in at the last minute.

"I hope you killed the vampire, at least," Integra said.

"Of course, my master," Alucard said gaily, "But now Seras needs a place to stay, as the Neverland is no longer safe for her."

"You aren't thinking of keeping her here!"

"It's only until Millennium is defeated," he said.

Integra agreed, though very reluctantly, and Seras was left with the tender loving care of the Captain while Integra went off to defeat Millennium with Alucard. It was far less glamorous than she remembered, as Millennium was far more savage and repulsive than the lawyers she was used to dealing with at home, and she soon found herself wishing to return to her quiet little office to fill out paperwork and have tea in front of the fire; yet when they returned he had forgotten to take Seras Victoria with him! Integra tried to call him back, but he was long gone; she would have care for Seras until his return in half a year's time.

Seras did not take to being civilized in the least. It took many moons for Integra to get Seras to agree to stop stalking around on all fours in the garden, or even to stop dancing naked under the full moon. Dressing her was no easier, as Seras refused to clean off the war paint on her face, or to grow out her hair, or wear outer layers of day clothing, as pajamas and undergarments were far more comfortable. Even the Captain did not have the patience for Seras that he had had for Integra, and after the two got into such a row that Seras walked with a sling and a limp for several weeks, Integra found it a necessity to do what her father never would: to hire a governess. They went through quite a few before they found one strict enough to keep the savage in line, and Seras soon learned to replace her war paint with hair ribbons, her animal skins with day clothes, and her snarls with unhappy whimpers after her meals were withheld; but at last she learned to behave.

Next autumn and spring Alucard never came. Integra waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet; but he simply did not come. They were on a schedule, and Integra did not like to be kept at the window when she had more pressing matters to attend. Walter waited with her by the windowsill the entire time, and Seras bounced on her toes.

"Perhaps he is ill," Walter said.

"You know he is never ill."

Seras, who by then was passable enough to share their council, asked despairingly, "Why does he not come?"

"I'm sure he is very busy," Integra said crisply, though her eyes implored the stars to reveal his whereabouts.

Then Seras came close to her and whined, "I want to go home!"

"I want you to go home too," Integra replied curtly.

Her words wounded Seras, who knew by this point that she was not wanted anywhere, and who from then on did not wish to return at all. Why would she? Her own tribe was trying to kill her, her new tribe was trying to get rid of her, and her desired husband did not even remember her. Did she even exist? Was any of it ever real? Was her brother's insistence that he was everywhere and nowhere merely a projection of her subconscious trying to tell her that she was not anywhere?

Then Seras leaned over and whispered, with a shiver, "Perhaps there is no such person, Integra!" and then Integra would have cried if Seras had not been crying.

Walter, Integra and Seras grew very close in the following year, as they were the only children by now who remembered the Neverland and kept its magic alive in their hearts. They enjoyed thrilling talks of of old times, and went to the balcony to blow on the stars so they flickered and danced like candlelight. Seras was genius at catching them in jars, and they were able to create a tent from Integra's coverlets, where they laughed and talked of magical times via starlight.

Alucard came next season; and the strange thing was that he never knew he had missed a year. Do not judge Alucard too harshly, for have I not said snon that time works differently in Neverland than on the main land, as there are only suns and moons to tell the time, and there are ever so many more than on the mainland? What's more, you will remember the crocodile's clock was once the only reliable way to tell the time, and it had long run out, as well as the crocodile. To make matters worse, you will remember that the Neverland's seasons depended entirely on Alucard's mood. When he is feeling particularly sunny, the summer does shine; or, when he is feeling quite gloomy, the most gloomy winter settles over the land. Since Alucard is quite careless and his moods unreliable, a single summer on the Neverland can last three years on the mainland; or, perhaps, a whole autumn in a single day, or skip a winter altogether to go straight into spring.

So, while Alucard was arriving during the appropriate seasons for the Neverland, he could not help how time does move on the mainland.

Never the less, Integra demanded that he aim for every season rather than merely spring and autumn, as his tardiness was becoming increasingly unprofessional and she simply would not tolerate such behavior in her house! She was on a schedule and would not suspend important business ventures for his careless antics!

"You sound just like a grown up, Integra," Alucard laughed, and flew on.

This gave Integra pause. She did, indeed, sound like a grown up.

That was the last time the girl Integra ever saw him. For a little longer she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; and she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But the months came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met again Integra was a grown woman, and Alucard was a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys. Those toys were then passed on to Seras. Integra was grown up. You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.

All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella. Luke and Jan's parents moved to build railroads in America, but the two returned a year ago to open a Jazz Dance Club in the heart of London. You see that soldier standing outside the club waiting to dance the night away, and the young lady with bobbed hair and a flapper dress? That is Pip and Seras. Pip became a mercenary for a French company and returned to find Seras working as a lady's maid for Integra. He laughed to see the once "proud picanniny princess" reduced to a prim, proper, prudish English lady, and she was so vexed by his mockery that she broke his nose in response; and they were married within the year.

As for Walter? He remained by Integra's side all the way to the altar.

You need not feel vexed at the union, for the two had grown very close over the years in Alucard's absence, and the two discovered that they were very well suited for each other. Integra liked to have everything just so, and Walter always kept everything just so without even needing to be asked. Integra valued absolute reliability, which Walter had provided every day since the day they left the Neverland. Integra had encouraged Walter to find his own path once all the others had been adopted, but Walter insisted to his last day that nothing brought him greater joy than serving Lady Integra and the Hellsing Estate.

I suppose it was his devotion and stead-fastness that won her in the end. Integra the girl had loved Alucard, and Integra the girl would always love him to her dying day, but Integra the woman needed more than a careless boy that could not hold onto his own shadow. Such frustrations were what drove her to leave the Neverland in the first place. Ruling the lost boys in the Neverland had been but a pale imitation of what kind of estate she desired to rule at home, and I suppose trying to capture the devotion of the wayward Alucard was but a pale imitation of what kind of husband she desired in marital life. Walter looked remarkably like Alucard (a great handicap on the island, as none were allowed to look like him), but he was better suited for her in stead-fastness and in character; she was satisfied.

She was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think that Alucard did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.

Years rolled on again, and Seras had many children. She had married young and started breeding early. She was a devoted wife and a loving mother, despite her upbringing in the savage war tribe and rather cold household in Hellsing. She and her husband went out dancing every weekend, which kept the fire of love alive, and it seemed that Seras was in her maternity bed more than her marital one. There was scarcely a moment when she was not seen with a baby on her hip and at least three children at her side. She often brought her children to the Hellsing Manor, and let them stay in the old nursery, where she and Integra and Walter retold the stories that kept the magic of the Neverland alive in their hearts.

In this time, Integra had a single daughter. This ought not to be written in ink but in a golden splash.

Her daughter and always had an odd inquiring look, as if from the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to ask questions. When she was old enough to ask them they were mostly about Alucard. She loved to hear of Alucard, and Integra and Walter told her all they could remember in the very nursery from which the famous flight had taken place. It was her daughter's nursery now. After a while, it was agreed that perhaps only Integra should speak of him. Walter had never truly been fond of Alucard, thanks to the abuse he suffered as his second-in-command (really, the lost boys had a miserable time of it), and Integra felt it best not to poison their daughter against him.

Because Integra was head of the household, Walter was a devoted father who often shared in parenting responsibilities. One of those was seeing to it that their child was put to bed. He had little reason since they still had the Captain as a nurse, but never-the-less he saw to it that the nursery was run properly. However, once a week they each had an evening off. They would not have done so had Integra not insisted, and then it was Integra's part to put her baby to bed. That was the time for stories. It was Integra's invention to raise the sheet over her daughter's head and her own, thus making a tent, and in the awful darkness her child would whisper: "What do we see now?"

"I don't think I see anything to-night," says Integra, feeling that if the Captain were here he would object to further conversation.

"Yes, you do," says her daughter, "you see when you were a little girl."

"That is a long time ago, sweetheart," says Integra. "Ah me, how time flies!"

"Does it fly," ask the artful girl, "the way you flew when you were a little girl?"

"The way I flew? Do you know, dear, I sometimes wonder whether I ever did really fly."

"Yes, you did."

"The dear old days when I could fly!"

"Why can't you fly now, mother?"

"Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way."

"Why do they forget the way?"

"Because they are longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly."

"What is gay and innocent and heartless? I do wish I were gay and innocent and heartless."

"Trust me, my dear, you would not," Integra smirks.

Or perhaps Integra admits she does see something.

"I do believe," she says, "that it is this nursery."

"I do believe it is," says her daughter. "Go on."

They are now embarked on the great adventure of the night when Alucard flew in looking for his shadow.

"The foolish fellow," says Integra, "tried to stick it on with soap, and when he could not he cried, and that woke me, and I sewed it on for him."

"You have missed a bit," interrupts the children, who now know the story better than her. "When you saw him sitting on the floor crying, what did you say?"

"I sat up in bed and I said, 'Boy, why are you crying?'"

"Yes, that was it," say the girl, with big breaths.

"And then he flew us all away to the Neverland and the fairies and the pirates and the redskins and the mermaid's lagoon, and the home under the ground, and the grand mansion."

"Yes! which did you like best of all?"

"I think I liked the home under the ground best of all."

"Yes, so do I. What was the last thing Alucard ever said to you?"

"The last thing he ever said to me was, 'Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.'"

"Yes."

"But, alas, he forgot all about me." Integra said it with a smile. She was as grown up as that.

"What did his crow sound like?" the girls asked one evening.

"It was like this," Integra said, imitating Alucard's crow.

"That is exactly how I thought!" she cried with joy.

"Oh? Did you expect differently?"

"Papa cannot crow at all, though he was Alucard's second-in-command once, and I expected you not to be much better."

Integra was a little startled. "How can you know?"

"I often hear it when I am sleeping," the girl said.

"Ah yes, many girls hear it when they are sleeping, but I was the only one who heard it awake."

"Lucky you," said her baby.

And then one night came the tragedy. It was the spring of the year, and the story had been told for the night, and her child was now asleep in the bed.

"Are you coming to bed, dear?" Walter asked from the doorway.

"Go on without me," Integra replied, "I shall be up for a while."

After he was gone Integra was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to see to read, for there was no other light in the nursery; and while she sat read she heard a crow. Then the window blew open as of old, and Alucard dropped in on the floor.

He was exactly the same as ever, and Integra saw at once that he still had all his first teeth.

He was a little boy, and she was grown up. She huddled by the fire not daring to move, helpless and guilty, a big woman.

"Hullo, Integra," he said, not noticing any difference, for he was thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her first.

"Hullo, Alucard," she replied faintly, squeezing herself as small as possible. Something inside her was crying "Woman, Woman, let go of me."

"Hullo, where is Walter?" he asked, suddenly missing the third bed.

"Walter is not here now," she said.

"Is Seras asleep?" he asked, with a careless glance at her daughter.

"Yes," she answered; and now she felt that she was untrue to Seras as well as to Alucard.

"That is not Seras," she said quickly, lest a judgment should fall on her.

Alucard looked. "Hullo, is it a new one?"

"Yes."

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

Now surely he would understand; but not a bit of it.

"Alucard," she said, "are you expecting me to fly away with you?"

"Of course; that is why I have come." He added a little sternly, "Have you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time?"

She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring cleaning times pass.

"I can't come," she said, "I have forgotten how to fly."

"I'll soon teach you again."

"O Alucard, don't waste the fairy dust on me."

She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed him. "What is it?" he cried, shrinking.

"I will turn up the light," she said, "and then you can see for yourself."

For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Alucard was afraid. "Don't turn up the light," he cried.

She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was a grown woman smiling at it all, but they were wet smiles.

Then she turned up the light, and Alucard saw. He gave a cry of pain; and when the tall beautiful creature stooped to lift him in her arms he drew back sharply.

"What is it?" he cried again.

She had to tell him.

"I am old, Alucard. I am ever so much more than twenty. I grew up long ago."

"You promised not to!"

"I couldn't help it. I am an old nanny, Alucard."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, and Pip and Seras have married now."

"No, they haven't!"

"And I am married now."

"To whom?"

"... Walter."

"The traitor!"

"To the last," Integra smiled, "and the child in the bed is my baby."

"No, she's not."

But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards the sleeping children with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on the floor instead and sobbed. Integra had supposed herself too old for many years, but now she still knew how to comfort him, though she could have done it so easily once. She was only a woman now, and had to endure his struggles and curses for a few moments, until she regained the touch that soothed his nightmares long ago, and he collapsed sobbing in her arms. Integra merely smiled at this, and held him as she had years ago.

Alucard ceased to cry, yet his sobs already woke Integra's daughter. She sat up in bed, and was interested at once.

"Boy," she said, "why are you crying?"

Integra glared from where she knelt. She felt she could scold her daughter for such a lack of originality.

However, Alucard rose from Integra's arms and bowed to her, and she bowed to him from the bed.

"Hullo," he said.

"Hullo," she said.

"My name is Alucard," he told her.

"Yes, I know."

"I came back for my master," he explained, "to take her to the Neverland."

"Yes, I know," she said, "I have been waiting for you."

Alucard stepped away from Integra and approached her daughter.

Integra, who saw mischief coming a mile away, said, "No, no."

"But mama, it is only for spring cleaning," her child said.

"I do not care how long it is for, I forbid the proceedings."

"Oh, mama."

"O Integra," Alucard said, the sly one, "did your father's forbidding prevent me from taking you away?"

Integra was startled. "No, I suppose he didn't."

"Shall you repeat his mistake?" Alucard asked.

"Am I not your master?"

"Yes, but so was he," Alucard explained; and her daughter descended and stood by his side, with the look in her face that he liked to see on ladies when they gazed at him.

Integra wondered how she ever held such a look for him as well.

"He does so need a master," her daughter said.

"Yes, I know." Integra admitted rather peevishly; "no one knows it as well as I."

"It's settled then," said Alucard to Integra; and he rose in the air, and the shameless Jane rose with him; it was already her easiest way of moving about.

Integra rushed to the window.

"No! no!" she shouted.

"It is just for spring cleaning time," her child said, "I mean to always to do his spring cleaning."

"He shall forget you as he forgot me," Integra snapped.

"No, he shan't, for I am his master, and he must always obey me."

Integra thought it was the same with her to him, and really could have spanked her daughter.

"If you're late, I shall come after you," Integra called.

"You see you can't fly," said her child.

"Oh? Just watch me!"

So this was what it felt like for her father and Sir Irons to see her fly away like that!

Of course in the end Integra let them fly away together, and for the first time she understood why her father and Sir Irons took umbrage with her flying away. Our last glimpse of her shows her at the window, glaring at them as they recede into the sky until they were as small as stars.

As you look at Integra, you may see her hair becoming iron grey, and her figure rigid as steel, for all this happened long ago. Jane is now a common grown-up, with a daughter called Moira; and every spring cleaning time, except when he forgets, Alucard comes for Moira and takes her to the Neverland, where she tells him stories about himself, to which he listens eagerly. When Margaret grows up she will have a daughter, who is to be Alucards's master in turn; and thus it will go on, so long as the Hellsing line continues to produce heirs, and children are gay and innocent and heartless.

_The End_

* * *

I thought about making Integra wait for Alucard and make Alucard grow up for her, but it seemed too contrived. I don't know. Sometimes two people just aren't right for each other and differences in taste and maturity really do drive them apart. Integra is the kind that likes to grow up and Alucard is the kind that never wants to grow up; it's that simple.

If there are too many objections, however, I will add an alternate ending.


	17. Alternate Ending

Author's Notes: A Hook-esque alternate ending where Alucard chooses to grow up to remain by Integra's side forever. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hellsing or Peter Pan. I have, however, grown up.

* * *

It only took a few days to reclaim the mansion. Richard had allowed things to fall into such disarray that most of the staff welcomed any sort of authorative change, so that when Integra stepped forward to reclaim the estate that was rightfully hers, they did not object too strongly. Of course, this did not matter as those that had stood by Richard were dismissed and then blacklisted from any other job and so had to try their fortune overseas, and those that had not supported him stayed on board as though nothing had ever changed.

Integra sent letters to her father's old business associates, and they were so delighted by her growth as a leader that they pledged to support her forever after. Only Sir Irons did not welcome her back with a hearty handshake; yet he was the first to respond to her letter. In fact, he responded within the hour, and called upon her the next day. He looked over her with critical eyes, and for the first time since her return, Integra felt small and dirty.

"So, you have finally returned," Sir Irons said when they met in person.

"Indeed, I have," Sir Integra said, with her hands behind her back and her eyes cast down bashfully. At the nudge of the Captain, Integra stood up straight and looked him in the eye.

"I have learned a lot about being a leader overseas," Integra said, without flinching, "But I still have much to learn about running an estate, and I hope you shall help me in the months to come."

For the first time since she could remember, Sir Irons smiled. "I shall be delighted, for the daughter of Arthur."

They shook hands over the gentlemen's agreement, and from that day on Sir Irons remained her most trusted advisor.

I hope you want to know what became of the other boys. They were waiting below to give Integra time to explain about them; and when they had counted five hundred they went up to the study. They went up by the stair, because they thought this would make a better impression. They stood in a row in front of Sir Irons, with their hats off, and wishing they were not wearing their pirate clothes. They said nothing, but their eyes asked him to have them.

Of course Integra said at once that she would find homes for them; but Sir Irons was curiously stern, and they saw that he considered six a rather large number.

"I must say," he said to Integra, "that you don't do things by halves," a grudging remark which the twins thought was pointed at them.

The first twin was the proud one, and he asked, flushing, "Do you think we should be too much of a handful, sir? Because, if so, we can go away."

"Sir Irons!" Integra cried, shocked; but still the cloud was on him. He knew he was behaving unfairly, but he could not help it.

"We could lie doubled up," said Pip.

"I always cut their hair myself," said Integra.

Then he sighed heavily, and the truth came out. He was as glad to have them as she was, he said, but he was not sure he could get all of them adopted.

"I hope you don't think me a cypher," he said to Integra.

"I don't think he is a cypher," Pip cried instantly. "Do you think he is a cypher, Jan?"

"Fuck no! Do you think he is a cypher, Walter?"

"Rather not. Twin, what do you think?"

It turned out that not one of them thought him a cypher; and he was rather gratified, and said he would find space for them all in the drawing-room in the mean time if they fitted in.

"We'll fit in, sir," they assured him.

"Then follow the leader," he said pleasantly. "Mind you, I am not sure where the drawing-room is, but we shall search until we find it. Hoop la!"

He went off searching through the mansion, and they all cried "Hoop la!" and danced after him, searching for the drawing-room; and I forget whether they found it, but at any rate they found corners, and they all fitted in. Integra, for her part, was proud that they had found Sir Irons' inner child at last, however briefly it shined.

As for Alucard, he saw Integra once again before he flew away. He did not exactly come to the window, but he brushed against it in passing so that she could open it if she liked and call to him. That is what she did.

"Hullo, Integra, good-bye," he said.

"Oh dear, are you going away?"

"Yes."

"You don't feel, Alucard," she said falteringly, "that you would like to say anything to Sir Irons about a very sweet subject?"

"No."

"About me, Alucard?"

"No."

Sir Irons came to the window, for at present he was keeping a sharp eye on Integra. He told Alucard that he had arranged to find parents to adopt all the other boys, and would like to adopt him out also.

"Would they send me to school?" he inquired craftily.

"Yes."

"And then to an office?"

"I suppose so."

"Soon I would be a man?"

"Very soon."

"I don't want to go to school and learn solemn things," he told them passionately. "I don't want to be a man. O Sir Irons, if I was to wake up and feel there was a beard!"

"Alucard," said Integra the comforter, "I should love you in a beard"; and Sir Irons stretched out his hand to him, but he repulsed the man.

"Keep back, old man, no one is going to catch me and make me a man like you."

"But where are you going to live?"

"With Rip in the house we built for Integra. The fairies are to put it high up among the tree tops where they sleep at nights."

"How lovely," cried Integra so longingly that Sir Iron tightened his grip.

"I thought all the fairies were dead," Sir Irons said.

"There are always a lot of young ones," explained Integra, who was now quite an authority, "because you see when a new baby laughs for the first time a new fairy is born, and as there are always new babies there are always new fairies. They live in nests on the tops of trees; and the mauve ones are boys and the white ones are girls, and the blue ones are just little sillies who are not sure what they are."

Rip answered impudently to this and flew away.

"I shall have such fun," said Alucard, with eye on Integra.

"It will be rather lonely in the evening," she said, "sitting by the fire."

"I shall have Rip."

"Rip can't go a twentieth part of the way round," she reminded him a little tartly.

"Sneaky tell-tale!" Rip called out from round the corner.

"It doesn't matter," Alucard said.

"O Alucard, you know it matters."

"Well, then, come with me to the little house."

"May I, Sir Irons?"

"Certainly not. You have returned home again, and now it is your duty to remain."

"But he does so need looking after."

"So does this estate, my dear."

"Oh, all right," Alucard said, as if he had asked her from politeness merely; but Sir Irons saw his mouth twitch, and knew that if Alucard had his way the madness would begin again, and so he made this handsome offer: to let Integra go to him for a week every year to do his spring cleaning. Integra would have preferred a more permanent arrangement; and it seemed to her that spring would be long in coming; but this promise sent Alucard away quite gay again. He had no sense of time, and was so full of adventures that all I have told you about him is only a halfpenny-worth of them. I suppose it was because Integra knew this that her last words to him were these rather plaintive ones:

"Don't forget me, Alucard, before spring cleaning time comes."

Of course Alucard promised; and then he flew away. He took Integra's kiss with him. The kiss that had been for no one else, Alucard took quite easily. Funny. But she seemed satisfied.

Of course all the boys were adopted out to Sir Irons' business associates—all but Walter, who insisted on staying in the Hellsing mansion as Integra's butler—and went to school; and most of them got into Class III, but Luke was put first into Class IV and then into Class V. Class I is the top class. Before they had attended school a week they saw what goats they had been not to remain on the island; but it was too late now, and soon they settled down to being as ordinary as you or me or Jenkins minor. It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradually left them. At first their parents tied their feet to the bed-posts so that they should not fly away in the night; and one of their diversions by day was to pretend to fall off buses; but by and by they ceased to tug at their bonds in bed, and found that they hurt themselves when they let go of the bus. In time they could not even fly after their hats. Want of practice, they called it; but what it really meant was that they no longer believed.

Walter believed longer than the other boys, though they jeered at him; so he was with Integra when Alucard came for her early the first year. It is a good thing he did, for he would have been late otherwise. She flew away with Alucard in the frock she had woven from leaves and berries in the Neverland, and her one fear was that he might notice how short it was becoming; but he never noticed, he had so much to say about himself.

She had looked forward to thrilling talks with him about old times, but new adventures had crowded the old ones from his mind.

"Who is Father Anderson?" he asked with interest when she spoke of the arch enemy.

"Don't you remember," she asked, amazed, "how you killed him and saved all our lives?"

"I forget them after I kill them," he replied carelessly.

When she expressed a doubtful hope that Rip Van Winkle would be glad to see her he said, "Who is Rip Van Winkle?"

"O Alucard," she said, shocked; but even when she explained he could not remember.

"There are such a lot of them," he said. "I expect she has moved on."

I expect he was right, for fairies don't stay in one place long, but they are so little that a short time seems a good while to them.

Integra was pained too to find that the past year was but as yesterday to Alucard; it had seemed quite a long time of waiting to her. She broached the subject of a more frequent arrangement - err, but not too often, as she was quite busy with the mansion and simply could not get away for too long. They discussed a great deal over what should be done, but in the end they decided on spring cleaning and autumn harvest. Twice a year seemed so much more bearable than once that Integra felt a great ease of mind, and she was able to enjoy their visit. He was exactly as fascinating as ever, and they had a lovely "spring" cleaning in the little house on the tree tops-though because Alucard was early, it was more like winter wrap-up.

Next year he arrived with a new companion that put Integra in quite a huff. It was Seras Victoria, the picaninny* of the Millennium War Tribe! Integra could barely suppress her indignation at being greeted after being kept waiting half a year by the sight of Alucard holding the little savage like a bride. Alucard explained quite gaily that Millennium had declared war on him and then turned on Seras when she tried to remain loyal. They had hunted her down with one of the Witch Doctor's vampires into a church that was built by Yumiko, and would have surely killed her if Alucard had not swooped in at the last minute.

"I hope you killed the vampire, at least," Integra said.

"Of course, my master," Alucard said gaily, "But now Seras needs a place to stay, as the Neverland is no longer safe for her."

"You aren't thinking of keeping her here!"

"It's only until Millennium is defeated," he said.

Integra agreed, though very reluctantly, and Seras was left with the tender loving care of the Captain while Integra went off to defeat Millennium with Alucard. It was far less glamorous than she remembered, as Millennium was far more savage and repulsive than the lawyers she was used to dealing with at home, and she soon found herself wishing to return to her quiet little office to fill out paperwork and have tea in front of the fire; yet when they returned he had forgotten to take Seras Victoria with him! Integra tried to call him back, but he was long gone; she would have care for Seras until his return in half a year's time.

Seras did not take to being civilized in the least. It took many moons for Integra to get Seras to agree to stop stalking around on all fours in the garden, or even to stop dancing naked under the full moon. Dressing her was no easier, as Seras refused to clean off the war paint on her face, or to grow out her hair, or wear outer layers of day clothing, as pajamas and undergarments were far more comfortable. Even the Captain did not have the patience for Seras that he had had for Integra, and after the two got into such a row that Seras walked with a sling and a limp for several weeks, Integra found it a necessity to do what her father never would: to hire a governess. They went through quite a few before they found one strict enough to keep the savage in line, and Seras soon learned to replace her war paint with hair ribbons, her animal skins with day clothes, and her snarls with unhappy whimpers after her meals were withheld; but at last she learned to behave.

Next autumn and spring Alucard never came. Integra waited in a new frock because the old one simply would not meet; but he simply did not come. They were on a schedule, and Integra did not like to be kept at the window when she had more pressing matters to attend. Walter waited with her by the windowsill the entire time, and Seras bounced on her toes.

"Perhaps he is ill," Walter said.

"You know he is never ill."

Seras, who by then was passable enough to share their council, asked despairingly, "Why does he not come?"

"I'm sure he is very busy," Integra said crisply, though her eyes implored the stars to reveal his whereabouts.

Then Seras came close to her and whined, "I want to go home!"

"I want you to go home too," Integra replied curtly.

Her words wounded Seras, who knew by this point that she was not wanted anywhere, and who from then on did not wish to return at all. Why would she? Her own tribe was trying to kill her, her new tribe was trying to get rid of her, and her desired husband did not even remember her. Did she even exist? Was any of it ever real? Was her brother's insistence that he was everywhere and nowhere merely a projection of her subconscious trying to tell her that she was not anywhere?

Then Seras leaned over and whispered, with a shiver, "Perhaps there is no such person, Integra!" and then Integra would have cried if Seras had not been crying.

Walter, Integra and Seras grew very close in the following year, as they were the only children by now who remembered the Neverland and kept its magic alive in their hearts. They enjoyed thrilling talks of of old times, and went to the balcony to blow on the stars so they flickered and danced like candlelight. Seras was genius at catching them in jars, and they were able to create a tent from Integra's coverlets, where they laughed and talked of magical times via starlight.

Alucard came next season; and the strange thing was that he never knew he had missed a year. Do not judge Alucard too harshly, for have I not said snon that time works differently in Neverland than on the main land, as there are only suns and moons to tell the time, and there are ever so many more than on the mainland? What's more, you will remember the crocodile's clock was once the only reliable way to tell the time, and it had long run out, as well as the crocodile. To make matters worse, you will remember that the Neverland's seasons depended entirely on Alucard's mood. When he is feeling particularly sunny, the summer does shine; or, when he is feeling quite gloomy, the most gloomy winter settles over the land. Since Alucard is quite careless and his moods unreliable, a single summer on the Neverland can last three years on the mainland; or, perhaps, a whole autumn in a single day, or skip a winter altogether to go straight into spring.

So, while Alucard was arriving during the appropriate seasons for the Neverland, he could not help how time does move on the mainland.

Never the less, Integra demanded that he aim for every season rather than merely spring and autumn, as his tardiness was becoming increasingly unprofessional and she simply would not tolerate such behavior in her house! She was on a schedule and would not suspend important business ventures for his careless antics!

"You sound just like a grown up, Integra," Alucard laughed, and flew on.

This gave Integra pause. She did, indeed, sound like a grown up.

That was the last time the girl Integra ever saw him. For a little longer she tried for his sake not to have growing pains; and she felt she was untrue to him when she got a prize for general knowledge. But the months came and went without bringing the careless boy; and when they met again Integra was a grown woman, and Alucard was a little dust in the box in which she had kept her toys. Integra was grown up. You need not be sorry for her. She was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.

All the boys were grown up and done for by this time; so it is scarcely worth while saying anything more about them. You may see the twins any day going to an office, each carrying a little bag and an umbrella. Luke and Jan's parents moved to build railroads in America, but the two returned a year ago to open a Jazz Dance Club in the heart of London. You see that soldier standing outside the club waiting to dance the night away, and the young lady with bobbed hair and a flapper dress? That is Pip and Seras. Pip became a mercenary for a French company and returned to find Seras working as a lady's maid for Integra. He laughed to see the once "proud picanniny princess" reduced to a prim, proper, prudish English lady, and she was so vexed by his mockery that she broke his nose in response; and they were married within the year.

As for Walter? He remained by Integra's side all the way to the altar.

She was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think that Alucard did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.

Years rolled on again, and Seras had many children. She had married young and started breeding early. Much to everyone's surprise, she was a loving wife and a doting mother, despite her upbringing in the savage war tribe and rather cold Hellsing household. Most expected her to tie a rope to their ankles and sling them on her back as was custom in her tribe, or to make them track her down after leaving them out in the wild, or weeding out the week ones. Heavens to Betsy! She could not have been further from the Millennium babes, and without even trying!

She was an exceedingly affectionate mother that treated all of her children like they were the most precious treasures in the world, and it was hard not to admire her for it because it seemed she was bringing new children into the world every spring. She and Pip had so many children that his men began to joke that every time their captain hung up his trousers, his wife spontaneously conceived. Integra secretly thought of the old saying "the rich get richer, and the poor get more babies." Never the less, the two did not seem to mind having more children, and through careful

How they managed to afford them all was anyone's guess, for, apart from the occasional visit to the Hellsing mansion, the two refused charity of any kind. For a week or two after the third came it was doubtful whether they would be able to keep her, as she was another mouth to feed. Pip Bernadotte was frightfully proud of her, but he was also very pragmatic, and he sat on the edge of Seras' bed, holding her hand and warning her about expenses, as they might sneak up from behind and rob them all blind if they were not watchful. Seras wanted to risk it, come what might, but that was not his way; his way was with a pencil and a piece of paper, for he was frightfully pragmatic and strategic after a lifetime of balancing a scant budget created from fighting with wars and if she confused him with suggestions he had to begin at the beginning again.

"We're going to keep this child no matter what," he assured her, "But we will have to be careful with every penny. Now don't interrupt," he would order. "I have one pound seventeen here, and two and six at the army; I can cut off my coffee at the office, say ten shillings, making two nine and six, with your eighteen and three makes three nine seven, with five naught in my cheque-book makes eight nine seven - who is that moving? - eight nine seven, dot and carry seven-don't speak, mon cher-and the pound you lent to that man who came to the door-hush, mon bebe-dot and carry child - there, you've done it! - did I say nine nine seven? Yes, I said nine nine seven; the question is, can we try it for a year on nine nine seven?"

"Of course we can, dear," Seras cried. But she was prejudiced in her daughter's favour, and he was really the grander character of the two.

"Remember mumps," he warned her sternly as a military captain warns of bombs, and off he went again. "Mumps one pound, that is what I have put down, but I daresay it will be more like thirty shillings-don't speak-measles one five, German measles half a guinea, makes two fifteen six-don't snub your so pretty nose-whooping-cough, say fifteen shillings"-and so on it went, and it added up differently each time; but at last their child just got through, with mumps reduced to twelve six, and the two kinds of measles treated as one.

There was the same excitement over the next child, and the fifth had even a narrower squeak; but all were kept, and soon, you might have seen the three of them going in a row to Miss Fulsom's Kindergarten school, accompanied by their beaming mother.

By the sixth child, Pip had quite thrown up his hands and said, "We'll make it fit."

Integra secretly wondered how they managed to fit all of those children in such a small apartment. Perhaps they had space for them all in the drawing-room if they fitted in. Then again, Integra was not sure that they even had a drawing-room, but she suspected they pretended they had one. With Seras and Pip being who they were and where they were from, and, to them, she figured it's all the same. She never found out whether they had a drawing-room, but at any rate they had corners, and they all fitted in.

As for Integra, she went about running the estate with an eye forever at the windowsill. She told herself that this was the life she wanted and could desire nothing more, yet every night she found herself looking out at the same star that winked at her on that fateful night long ago. She kept the nursery in order despite having no use for it, having no children of her own. She sometimes let Seras bring her children to the Hellsing Mansion for visits and holidays, for she now regarded the girl as family, and let them play in the old nursery, where they all retold the stories that kept the magic of the Neverland alive in their hearts.

It was on one such a visit that things changed in the Neverland forever. It was a warm spring night, and Seras had just finished putting the last to bed, and Integra couldn't help making a wry face as she watched her coo over them.

"I must say you don't do things by halfs," Integra said, thinking of Sir Irons long ago.

"Thank you!" Seras cried, with a glowing smile.

Integra hadn't the heart to tell her that wasn't a compliment.

"If they're too much of a handful," Seras said, helpfully, "I could take them home before putting them to bed, if you like."

"Nonsense," Integra said, "This old house has gone without the laughter of children for far too long. Besides, their smiles keep me young."

Seras smiled sympathetically, "I take it master hasn't returned yet?"

"No!" Integra burst out, "It's been years, and that little git hasn't shown head nor shadow of himself!"

"You could go to the Neverland without him. 'Second to whichever right you wish,' then straight on till morning."

"I tried, but the magic quite failed me."

"I see."

"I wish you had told me that when I was still young and able to fly," Integra continued peevishly, "Now I can't lift an inch."

"I thought you already knew!" Seras cried, "Besides, there's no reason it shouldn't work for you. Mind over matter, as my husband always says. It's all in your head."

"You and I both know that only children can fly."

"Only those who believe can fly, you mean," Seras grinned. "And all of those young at heart can believe. You're just so hard on yourself. It's hard to let happy thoughts lift you up when you feel so weighed down. Just let your worries go away; go on. It's like letting go of an anchor to a ship."

"… I suppose that's how you rediscovered the magic of Neverland," Integra grumbled, a little childishly. She didn't want to do it anymore, just out of a childish sense of stubbornness. "You elope with that mercenary, take a right on Picadilly Circus in the wee hours of the morning, and there it unfolds for you, like the sun rising."

"You mustn't say it like that!" Seras cried, "It could work for you too! You just need to be open to it!"

"… No, it's for the best," Integra finally said, "I'm quite sure he's forgotten all about me, and if he hasn't, then I'm sure there's a reason he no longer returns to me. I have too many responsibilities to discard for a careless boy who cannot keep track of his own shadow."

"Aw, come on!" Seras cried, "I could take you to the Neverland! See? I can even dress up like Master Alucard—"

Integra boxed her ears.

"OW! What was that for?!"

"Don't even joke about something like that! And where is Alucard, anyway?! It's been years! How long does he intend to dally? I thought you said he was coming back?!"

"He will," Seras assured her kindly, "He will come back. I know because I am a native of Neverland. See?" she pointed to the pale skin of her neck, with veins that seemed to have a silvery sheem, "I can feel its magic coursing through me, as though it were my own blood."

Integra was quite silent. "Be that as it may, I am not descended from the Neverland, and I cannot go back now that it's over."

"Don't talk like that! How you do go on. One minute you think that he is better off gone and the next you are impatient to have him back!"

After Seras had finally coaxed Integra into bed, insisting that she was just cranky because she was tired and a little sleep would do her wonders, for, like the Captain before her, knew that children rarely truly threw tantrums over the things they were truly upset about. Integra had stubbornly insisted that she was not the least bit tired even as her eyes drooped with it, and she finally relented, rather petulantly, that she would rest her eyes only for a moment. Seras agreed that it would only be for a moment, and then smiled in rather self-satisfaction when Integra fell dead asleep in the same bed in which Alucard had discovered her long ago.

With all of her children and Integra thus put to bed, Seras stayed up the night and was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to see to thread, for there was no fairy light in the nursery tonight; and while she sat she heard a crow. Then the window blew open as of old, and Alucard dropped in on the floor.

He was exactly the same as ever, and Seras saw at once that he still had all his first teeth.

"Hullo, Seras," he said, not noticing any difference, for he was thinking chiefly of himself; and in the dim light her white dress might have been the nightgown in which he had seen her last.

"Hullo, Alucard," she replied softly, keeping herself as still as possible.

"Is Integra asleep?" he asked, with a careless look over his shoulder.

"Yes," she answered.

"Hullo, is it a new one?" Alucard said, suddenly noticing the extra bed.

"Yes."

"Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

Silence fell between them. Seras hoped he would understand, but not a bit of it.

"Alucard," she said, faltering, "are you expecting Integra to fly away with you?"

"Of course; that is why I have come." He added a little sternly, "Have you forgotten that this is spring cleaning time?"

She knew it was useless to say that he had let many spring cleaning times pass.

"I don't think she can come," she said, "At least, not the way you want. I think she has forgotten how to fly."

"I'll soon teach her again."

"O Alucard, I think you'll need much more fairy dust than the last."

She had risen; and now at last a fear assailed him. "What is it?" he cried, shrinking.

"I will turn up the light," she said, "and then you can see for yourself."

For almost the only time in his life that I know of, Alucard was afraid. "Don't turn up the light," he cried.

She let her hands play in the hair of the tragic boy. She was not a little girl heart-broken about him; she was married with a love and children of her own, and smiling at it all.

"Trust me," she whispered.

Then she turned up the light, and Alucard saw. He gave a cry of pain; and when the tall beautiful creature stooped to take his hand he drew back sharply.

"What is it?" he cried again.

She had to tell him.

"Integra grew up, Alucard."

"She promised not to!"

"She couldn't help it. She's an old nanny, Alucard."

"No, she's not."

"Yes, since Pip and I have married now."

"No, you haven't!"

"And the other children in the beds are my babies."

"No, they're not."

But he supposed she was; and he took a step towards the sleeping children with his dagger upraised. Of course he did not strike. He sat down on the floor instead and sobbed. Seras looked pained by his grief, yet smiled knowingly, as a mother who knows the grief of her child now is a necessary step to discovering an even greater joy later.

When Alucard had finally ceased to cry, he discovered to his dismay that he had not forgotten it right away, and felt himself truly desolate. Grief like this was why he had chosen to cast off the trappings of adulthood like a cumbersome suit of armor, yet here it was, forever sinking him.

"She's been waiting for you for the longest time," Seras said, the kind one, "And there she is, asleep in the bed."

And that was how Seras brought Alucard to Integra, the same way she had done for him and the Never bird long ago.

Alucard looked on Integra, and found, for the first time, just how beautiful she was. His sorrow was instantly forgotten. He stared at her long and long.

"I shall give her a kiss," he said, and pulled out an acorn button.

"No, Alucard! No buttons, no thimbles! I can't bear to think how her heart would break when she realizes she can't keep you!"

"No, I mean… a real kiss…" Alucard said, and lost his eyes in Integra's soul.

And then, just as he had wanted when he first looked on Integra years and years ago—before Sir Hellsing and the Captain had stopped him and kept him perpetuating the same unhappy cycle that left him feeling even more sad and empty and alone after the children he sought as friends were long dead and grown, and so sought out more children only to later feel even more sad and empty and alone when time brought them children of their own—Alucard leaned over Integra as she slept, and gave her a kiss on her lips.

While he did so, Integra dreamt that the Afterlife had come too near and that an unhappy man with the heart of a child had broken through from it. She saw that he had rent the film that obscures the Afterlife, and she was peeping through the gap.

When Integra opened her eyes, he was as big as his shadow.


End file.
